


Legends Never Die

by WallaceAndGromitGirl



Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: Adventure, Challenges, Character Study, Family Dynamics, Fantasy, Fear, Gods, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence, Multi, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Rescue Missions, Reunions, Romance, Trials, Water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 41,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2505365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallaceAndGromitGirl/pseuds/WallaceAndGromitGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the realm of the gods, an ancient forgotten evil has returned to seek the deaths of his rivals and the erasure of mortals from life and afterlife. With time running out, the fate of humanity depends on the three heroes who represented it before. The three heroes who still have some demons of their own to chase away. It's going to be a long week...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

If one was to open up a dictionary and search for the word _oxymoron,_ the phrase "Saturday detention" would most likely not be there. That said, it should be. Saturdays were _special._ They were for not wearing uniforms and eating junk food and playing violent video games, not staying cooped up at school with nothing to do and people you didn't like. You simply couldn't contain a Saturday, even if you were a weekly member of the Metro Elementary detention class. And if that lesson had to be taught the hard way, so be it.

Had it not been school regulation to go over the rules, the teacher wouldn't have bothered. This lot had heard them all before. "No talking. No texting. No music. No Angry Birds or Candy Crush." She droned on, not stopping to check if the students were listening. The large wad of gum and saliva that sailed past her head answered that question, anyway. "No spitballs."

The five children sitting at the desks in front of her groaned at the missed shot. Their leader, a boy dressed all in black with spiked wristbands and shaggy purple hair, eagerly prepared more ammunition.

The teacher stepped towards the door, checking the time and settingan alarm on her phone."You can have your lunches in three hours, and you can go home three hours after that. No one leaves this room unless something explodes. I'll be across the hall." Walking out of the classroom, she locked the door behind her.

Normally this was the time when the quintet slumped in their seats, bemoaning their wretched fate and fantasizing about a dramatic escape. Today, however, they remained sitting up straight. Their fingers clutched the edges of their desks as they kept their eyes and ears on the door, wetting their lips. Today, things were going to be different. They had a plan. There would be no fantasizing, only action.

The goth boy was the one to break the silence. "Everyone bring their passes?" he whispered, and his friends all nodded. "How about their bikes?"

"My mom dropped me off," little Sasha admitted, looking a bit embarrassed.

"You can ride on my handlebars," Jane told her.

The goth boy grinned. "Alright. Move out!"

They were lucky the school was only one story, and that it was unprecedentedly warm for mid-November. All they had to do was vault out the open window, crawl through the shrubbery to the front of the school and board the four bikes sitting in the parking lot. Donning their helmets, they sped out of the lot and into the bustle of downtown. They laughed as they sped through crosswalks and narrowly avoided little old ladies walking their dogs. The arcade, the movie theater and the ice cream parlor all sat enticingly in their path, but they all pedaled on by without a glance. Today, they were after a much sweeter treasure.

* * *

Cars were packed in the museum parking lot like sardines, and people filed in and out of the double doors at the top of the steps. A few tour guides stood around holding signs, but the young redhead with the all-knowing eyes and mischievous smile was nowhere to be seen.

Sanjay crossed his arms and cocked his head. "Maybe she's inside?"

Sasha ran forward - not to the front doors, but to a blank patch of wall nearby. She skipped a little as she ran at the hidden entryway, only to bump face-first into the wall which it appeared to be. "La Muerte?" she called out, knocking on the grey bricks. "La Muerte, it's us! The kids from the field trip last week! Do you remember us? I know you've got a lot of people to remember and stuff, but…"

No answer. Maybe she wasn't in the right spot. Hadn't the secret door been right around here?

"I meant _inside_ inside, stupid!"

"Oh."

In the front hall, the chattering of the crowd formed a dull roar and it was nearly impossible to walk around without bumping into someone. Five kids weaving through the fleeting gaps went unnoticed by patrons and security alike. Ducking into the nearest hall, they found themselves wandering through an art gallery filled with portraits of bored-looking people in uncomfortable outfits and bowls of fruit in darkened rooms. "There's no way she'd be in here," Jane said. "It's too boring!"

A flowing flash of red in the corner of Sasha's eye sent her running off down a narrow, painting-less corridor. "I saw her! She went this way!" The rest of the children followed her lead, tearing around a corner and right through the wall of bright yellow **RESTRICTED** tape.

When they pushed open the metal door at the end of the hall and stepped through, they found the cream-colored walls replaced by gray concrete. Pictures and artifacts from a hodge-podge of time periods sat wrapped in plastic or brown paper, stacked on one of the many shelves if they were small enough. The only light came from the fluorescent bars flickering on the ceiling. From somewhere under the floor came the buzzing rattle of a heater that probably needed fixing.

"What's all this?" Joao asked the others as they began wandering around, peeking around shelves and statues in search of the goddess.

"Probably the super _extra_ boring stuff," the goth boy said.

Sanjay walked by an uncovered painting that stood upright, then he scrambled backwards to see it again."Woah, check this one out!"

When the others saw what he was looking at, they crowded around the canvas with him. Even under the shoddy lighting, the explosion of color glowed like the sunrise it depicted. The strokes of deep red and violet against pale orange swirled and blended with each other to form a sun that peeked eagerly out from behind a rustic, jagged skyline. The houses seemed to lean against one another, the ridges of their tiled roofs sharp against the background. Above them towereda large, wide oval of a building that curved upward like a bowl. Decorations affixed on either end gave it the vague appearance of a bull's head.

Jane suddenly gasped and pointed at a spot on the canvas. "Oh my gosh! Look!"

She was staring at thelower right corner of the picture. There, in gold paint, the artist had signed her name: _Maria Sanchez._ The letters were thin and slanted, and there was an extra flourish on the "z". It was as though an extra sense of pride had gone into writing her last name.

"What are you doing back here? Out!"

The kids whirled around, screaming and shielding their eyes from the sudden glare of the flashlight beam in their faces. A security guard was glaring at them, his thin face and long beard illuminated by the florescent light."Didn't you see the tape? No one's allowed back here. Administration rules."

One by one, the children recognized him. They relaxed, their gaping mouths turning to grins as they laughed with relief. "Don't you mean _ancient_ rules?" Sanjay asked with a smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"We know it's you, Xibalba!" the goth boy blurted out. "Don't you remember us?"

The guard stepped closer. As he shined his light on each of their faces, his eyes narrowed and his brows raised. "Oh. The Breakfast Club Babies."

"Huh?" they said in unison.

"Never mind."In one fluid motion, he clicked the flashlight off and clipped it back on his belt. "What are you kids doing here? You're supposed to spend the weekend killing your brain cells, you know."

"We were wondering if La Muerte was here," Joao asked. "We want to see the special room again and read another story. Do you know where she is?"

"It's her day off," Xibalba answered curtly. He turned his flashlight back on and started gesturing towards the door with it. "Too bad, so sad, now run along…"

"Did Maria really paint this?"

"What?"he asked, his beam of light falling on Sasha.

She pointed at the painting. "This."

Xibalba smiled a bit when he saw the picture. _"Sunrise From the Casa de Sanchez,_ circa 1925. Oil on canvas. Hung in the family library for years. You can't see them too well, but some of those windows are actually musical notes. Probably from whatever her husband was working on that day. They shared a studio, you know…"

"Hey! I bet you know lots of stories, too!" Jane exclaimed.

Xibalba abruptly stopped his rambling. "I'm not a tour guide. And there's a reason for that, believe me."

Sasha stepped forward and grinned up at him. "I bet you'd be good at it. You can practice on us."

Xibalba slowly knelt down to her height and looked her square in the eye. "I do not. Like. Children."

Sasha backed away, but the goth boy knew a challenge when he saw one. "I bet you're lying," he piped up.

The god raised a bushy eyebrow. "Oh? You willing to bet on that?"

"You're on, mister!"

Straightening up, Xibalba surveyed the group for a moment. "Very well." Turning around, he walked towards the opposite wall. The concrete rippled like a curtain as he passed through it and vanished. A moment later, he stuck the upper half of his body back out. "You coming or what?"

* * *

The wall bent inwards when the children poked at it. When they followed Xibalba through, they found themselves walking down the same dark corridor La Muerte had first shown them. "That's weird," Joao remarked.

"Oh, so _that's_ where this all starts to get weird," Xibalba said. "Talking to a god of death is a-okay, but you draw the line at a room with more than one way in. How _shocking."_

"If you're trying to get rid of us," Jane said, "it's not gonna work."

"I know. That's why I'm calling a friend." He put his fingers to his mouth and let out a shrill, piercing whistle. "Here, boy!"

A long, purple shape came zipping out of the shadows, blocking the children's path and hissing at them with its two heads. They all screamed and Sasha hid behind Jane, but none of them ran.

"Woah, is that really your murder snake?" the goth boy said after a few moments. "He's even cooler than I thought he'd be!"

"Alright, you win this round."

"Can I pet him?"

"No touchingQueso." Xibalba waved a hand, and the snake went slithering off ahead of them.

"Because he'll bite us?"

"No, because then you'll rightfully be able to say that an old man took you into a secret room and let you play with his snake. Then there's going to be all sorts of paperwork and body disposal. I believe you'll find _this_ more preferable." Walking under an archway, he flipped a switch and lit up the room. _"¡Aquí!"_

The children shrieked with delight and scattered across the room, darting amongst the artwork, artifacts and decorations. They gasped at the intricate murals, tried on sombreros, laughed at the skeletons, played with the wooden dolls.

"Just don't break anything," Xibalba told them. "I'll never hear the end of it." He snapped his fingers, and a green glow enveloped his body as it grew and reshaped itself. His uniform turned to inky robes, and ragged black wings blossomed from his shoulder blades. "Much better," he sighed as he flapped them. "Now let's see, what is _the_ most unpleasant thing in this room?"

Jane and Sanjay were at the far end of the room, standing beneath the tree mural. "This thing's heavier than it looks," the latter was saying as he tried to lift the Book of Life's cover. _"Open sesame!_ Or something."

"Careful," Xibalba said, coming up behind them. "You might see something you're not meant to."

Jane crossed her arms. "Maybe our pages are blank, too."

"Yes, well, that's going to stay a mystery for now." Beckoning to the other children, he began to flip through the book's pages. "I'll take it from here. Tell me a story you'd like to hear, and I'll make you wish you hadn't."

"I want a scary story! With lots of monsters!" the goth boy exclaimed.

Jane shook her head. "That's way too easy. Do a love story! You can't make those scary."

Xibalba rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you wish."

Sasha peeked out from behind Jane. "Can we hear another story about Manolo and Maria and Joaquin, please?"

Xibalba looked from them to the book and back. "Tell you what…I'll give you all three of those. How does that sound?"

"Can it be extra scary?" asked the goth boy.

"With the one I have in mind? There's no need for that." Breezing through the pages, Xibalba landed somewhere in the middle of the book. "Now…look closely."

The children leaned forward to look, murmuring in awe at what they saw. From the book's pages rose the hazy image of a huge, bright golden city. The Aztec buildings towered over each other in blocky mountains, connected by canals and hanging bridges. Garlands of crystalline flowers hung from the walls. The whole thing sat in the middle of a wide, misty lake atop a giant black pillar that stretched down into nothingness. Water from the canals cascaded in falls down its sides, splashing against the intricate carvings of monsters and warriors.

"What _is_ that place?" Sanjay breathed.

"We call it Aztlan. The city of the gods. We all have our worlds, but this is where we meet when we must all come together." Xibalba pointed to the largest building, a great rectangle in the center of the picture. "You see this? That's the palace of the two kings, Quetzalcoatl and his brother Tezcatlipoca."

"Who are the other gods?" the goth boy asked, pushing his friends aside to see better.

"You'll meet them in a second. Because on the day our story begins, the gods have all gathered for the most important meeting they will ever hold. For you see, word has reached them that a lowly mortal has outwitted the god of death, and they are all _very_ angry."


	2. Chapter 2

"This is unacceptable!" The hulking figure slammed an andesite fist down on the granite table, leaving a smoldering crater in its surface. "Let us depart for the Land of the Living at once. We shall smite this impudent human with all our powers and condemn him to the eternal torment he thinks he can avoid!"

The creature sitting next to him, a green, watery mass with bugged-out eyes and a cleft lip, eyed him with disdain. "Such powerful rage wasted on such a narrow mind. Have you thought, Tohil, that the issue lies not in the pride of one mortal but in them all?"

On the other side of the table, a being made of candle wax and one that might have been mistaken for a tree stiffened at his words. "You ask to kill them all," the latter said.

"I _demand_ it. We must protect ourselves and destroy your creation before it rises up against us."

"Why are we still here? I told you what happened."

The assembly turned to look at its quietest member, who had been silently fuming in her chair throughout most of the proceedings. She gave them all a long glare as she drummed her fingers on the table, leaving sugar crystals behind. "No one outwitted anyone. Manolo won his wager with my husband and was given his promised reward. All was done in accordance with the ancient rules."

"You are his wife," the water god snapped at her."We must disregard your word."

La Muerte's face would have turned red if it could. She was starting to stand up when the dark-skinned woman beside her grabbed her arm and guided her back into her seat. "She's right, you know," she said, her dress of rose petals swishing as she stood in her friend's place. "This mortal did not act out of pride, he acted out of purest love. We mustn't punish him for that."

Tohil snorted. "You think everything's about love!"

"Maybe it is!"

"You unloyal, monster-loving…"

_"Silence!"_

The gods all shuddered at the thundering voice and sheepishly looked up. It had come from the dais at the far end of the table. On it, a small figure leaned back in his chair. His robe of colorful, woven feathers and his golden headdress covered with jewels made him look even smaller. One might have mistaken him for a man, but he was covered in black scales and had bright green eyes with slitted pupils. A band of yellow ran across the center of his face. His forked tongue dotted in and out as he surveyed his subjects, his chin resting on a claw-like hand. His left leg was propped on the table, displaying the bronze peg where his foot had once been. "We did not gather here to make this hall a place of war," he said, just loud enough for the others to hear him. He gestured to the floor. "And my brother is resting."

"Let us defer to him!" Tohil said. "He shall know what must be done!"

"I agree," said La Muerte.

"Hold your tongue, woman!" the water god hissed.

_"You_ shall hold _your_ tongue, Tlaloc," said the leader, a hint of ice in his calm voice. "It would indeed be wisest to consult Quetzalcoatl. Does anyone object to this plan?"

The words had hardly left his lips when the doors to the hall slowly swung open. "I object."

It was a rough, reedy voice, broken and hoarse from lack of use. La Muerte did not recognize it. She quickly glanced around the room, doing a silent headcount. No seat went unfilled. Then who had come here so late…?

That was when she heard the click of bone on marble and the low, murderous growls that followed it. _No. It can't be._

Gasps and murmurs rose up from the assembly as the newcomer stepped into the light. He was nothing but a bleached skeleton, his bones cracked and worn and spattered with dried blood. There were no eyes in his sockets. His jaw hung open, revealing rows of razor-sharp fangs. A cape of owl feathers trailed out behind him as he walked. Around his throat hung a necklace of eyeballs.

Behind and beside him prowled dozens of jaguars. Some were lithe, some were bulky, all of them snarled and snapped at the gods as they circled their master. At the back of the group walked one that was up on its hind feet, carrying a spear and sporting a jagged scar across its face.

The skeletal creature stopped at the edge of the table and dropped into a sweeping bow. "Tezcatlipoca. My king." Then he caught sight of La Muerte. "And _you_ have not aged a day, my dear."

She crossed her arms and cast her gaze to the ceiling, determined not to look at him.

He ignored her. "How lovely to see you all once more," he said, his empty eyes traveling around the table like a killer picking out his next victim. "I've been terribly lonely since my reassignment. But where is…?" He stopped, looking right at a corner of the table. "Ah. You."

The god he stared at had once been tall and regal. Now he was hunched over, the gleam of his obsidian skin and robes long faded. His curly, dark grey mustache and beard hung down to the floor. His red, skull-shaped eyes were dark and tired, yet he was glaring at the intruder with all the hatred he could muster. _"You."_

"Say my name."

"It is forbidden."

_"Say my name,"_ he repeated while the jaguars growled.

"…Mictlan." The old god spat out the name as though it was a curse word.

"Kisin. Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Tlaloc had been sitting open-mouthed since this new turn in the meeting had begun, and now he finally found his voice once more. "How dare you!" he sputtered at Mictlan. "How did you escape from the Land of the Forgotten, and why have you come to blight this hall with your presence?"

"You should be honored by my presence, great Tlaloc. I have come to offer you congratulations. For you," he said, "are the second-smartest god in this room!"

"Behind yourself, I assume," La Muerte muttered.

"He is correct and knows not why he is so. I do." Mictlan began to walk around the table. "Answer me this question, my brethren. When was the last time you received a sacrifice?

Most of the gods bowed their heads, and a few swore under their breaths.

"Far too long. You look down on a forgotten soul such as myself, but humankind has forgotten you. They have turned to their other gods, and we are but stories. The crime of this one human is not unique to him. They have all grown proud, and they think they can overcome us. They think we are _weak."_

Angry exclamations began to fly back and forth. "We should kill them all! Make the fools pay!"

"Ease yourselves, brethren," Mictlan continued, aware of all the eyes now on him. "Do not take this as an affront to your great selves. You are indeed strong, and most worthy of sacrifice. All but one of you. The one who is not here."

La Muerte shot out of her seat, clenching her fists. "You've done him enough harm already! My king, this is ridiculous…"

"What harm I might have done Xibalba is nothing compared to the harm he has done us all by letting that human go free," Mictlan declared. "He has sent them a message, that they need not fear the old gods and show them no respect. How will they respond?"

"You don't understand…"

"I understand perfectly well what must be done," Mictlan told her. "Xibalba and his precious humans must both be punished for their audacity!"

"They aren't even around to hear what you're planning!" La Muerte shouted back. She turned to Tezcatlipoca. "My king, I know the ancient rules well. One cannot be punished unless they are first judged and found deserving of it, mortal or god. Those whom Mictlan accuses must be given the chance to defend themselves and explain their actions.

"My king, she only wishes to protect her pathetic excuse of a husband!" Tlaloc said.

_"You_ shut up!"

Tezcatlipoca raised a hand, and the hall fell silent. "Our sister La Muerte is correct. That is indeed an ancient rule, and we must abide by it. Lord Xibalba and the mortals shall be summoned to Aztlan to stand trial before my brother and I. They shall defend their actions, and we shall pass judgement. For now, let this be the final word on the matter."

"My king," Tohil said, "there are so many mortals. We cannot summon them all to Aztlan."

"We shall not," Tezcatlipoca said. "We shall only summon the three."

* * *

"The three?" Joao said. "He's talking about Manolo, Maria and Joaquin, isn't he?"

"I did say I'd tell you another story about them, didn't I?"

"So they've gotta represent all of humanity _again?"_ Jane exclaimed. "Man, that stinks. Just when they were finally happy, too."

Xibalba rubbed the back of his neck. "Eh…maybe that's too strong a word."

The children looked confused and worried. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's like this. The gods didn't know it yet, but they were hatching their plan at a very bad time. All was not well for the three heroes of San Angel, especially Manolo."

The goth boy looked alarmed. "Why not?"

"Because it doesn't matter how pure your soul is, you can't go to hell and back and come out the same as you were before. And when you dwell too long on what might have been, it…well, it _does_ things to you."


	3. Chapter 3

It was hazy and slow, yet it all seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. "Snake!" she yelled, and pushed him out of the way. The serpent sprang forward, fangs outstretched, and bit her with both heads. They both let out a cry as she fell into his arms, her body already limp and gray.

Picking her up, he tried running back to town. Maybe there was still time. But the long bridge began to stretch itself out even longer. The faster he went, the faster San Angel receded into a dark mist. He stumbled and stopped, out of breath.

Her glassy eyes blinked, and she opened her mouth. When she spoke, her voice was an icy monotone. _"It should have been you."_ Then she was gone, and her corpse was breaking into black dust.

"No!" he shouted, trying desperately to catch her remains as they floated away. "You're not forgotten! Everyone's still here, see?"

But San Angel was burning, and the bandits were cackling as they stood amidst the flames.

He gasped as he felt a single sharp pain in his ankle. A cold paralysis swept through his body as he fell backwards - not to the ground, but into a wooden coffin. The lid clamped shut, trapping him in darkness. On the other side, he could hear voices. "So sad to lose them both. At least he belongs down there."

"I'm alive!" he shouted, pounding on the coffin lid. "I can get Maria back! You just have to let me out!" But they were already shoveling dirt over him. "Please! Can't you hear me? Help! _Help!"_

"Manolo!"

His eyes snapped open, the last of his cries still on his lips. His breaths came in deep, frantic gasps as he sat up and looked around. Pale rays of early morning light were creeping through the bedroom window, and the blankets were rumpled and twisted from all his thrashing. His skin was clammy, and beads of cold sweat trickled down his forehead. He lay back down, rubbing his face and groaning. _Not again._

A small, warm hand touched his. "You were yelling."

Manolo turned onto his side. Maria was bleary-eyed but definitely awake, and she stroked his face as she stared back at him."What happened?" she whispered.

He gave her a weak, shaky smile. "It's over now. Nothing to be worried about." He kissed her forehead, then sat up and got out of bed. "Go back to sleep, Maria. It's still early."

"What about you?"

"I'm just going for a walk. Won't be long."

Maria furrowed her brows and bit her lip, but she said nothing more and closed her eyes once again. She lay still and listened to him quietly shuffle around the room as he dressed, not chattering or humming a new tune as he usually did. When she finally heard the bedroom door shut behind him, she opened her eyes and sighed. _"Ay, mi amor…"_

* * *

Before a month ago, at least, there had always been something about early morning which Manolo was fond of. Perhaps it was the peaceful silence and the lack of people, the way he could be alone with his guitar and his thoughts. Most of the time, he would sit by the fountain in the plaza or under the Proposal Tree to practice. Today, however, he found himself wandering the streets of San Angel in no particular path, kicking pebbles as he went.

A slight chill crept through the air, making him shiver. The only noises came from animals and the few townsfolk who passed him. It felt empty, Manolo thought, devoid of the life it should have. Almost as if everyone had…

Shaking his head to chase away the thought, he turned to go home. _I can't be here right now._

"You still sure about this morning person thing?"

Manolo looked up ahead. Leaning against the side of a building was Joaquin, his arms crossed and his head tilted as he observed his friend. "Because I gotta say, it really doesn't look good on you these days. No offense."

"I didn't get much sleep last night."

Joaquin fell in step with him, and the two men walked along the water's edge together. "Up late?" he asked Manolo, winking.

Manolo didn't look up. "More nightmares."

Joaquin raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? Isn't that, like, the third time this week?"

"Fourth. They're getting worse."

"Was this a new one?"

"It was _all_ of them."

Joaquin winced. "What did Maria say?"

"I didn't tell her. Why do you think I'm out here?"

"You'll have to pretty soon. I know you don't want her to worry, but - "

"It's too late for that."

"Then what's stopping you?"

"I don't want her to know how bad it is. To see me like this."

"With bags under your eyes?"

_"Weak."_ Picking up a rock, Manolo threw it into the lake. "I know none of it's real, but I still can't fight it."

"Maybe she can help."

He nodded halfheartedly. "Maybe." Every day he told himself that he would share it all with her, and every day he imagined her turning away from him in fear, exasperation, disgust.

Joaquin didn't notice the far-off look in his eyes. "See?" he chirped. "You got this."

"Yes…"

They walked on, no closer to their goal than before.

* * *

Sasha peeked out from behind Jane. "I don't like this story very much."

"Poor Manolo!" Jane added. "I bet Maria would understand if they just talked about it. Why don't they ever talk about stuff in stories like this?"

"It's 'cuz he's going all crazy and stuff," the goth boy declared. "You can't do that when you're going all crazy and stuff. Right, Mr. Xibalba?"

"Not quite." He bent down, closer to the children's level. "Do you remember what Manolo's greatest fear was?"

"Duh! It was being himself. And then he got over it."

"Which," Xibalba continued, "means that he found a new greatest fear. He was afraid of losing the people he loved, and none more so than Maria. Imagine thinking the only family you had left wouldn't love you anymore if you told them a secret."

"It doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me," said Sanjay. "It's kind of silly, isn't it?"

"Perhaps. Sometimes we can be afraid for silly reasons. But they don't seem so silly when we're afraid of them, do they?"

"Why couldn't his second-greatest fear be, like, spiders or something? Then this would be real easy. _Squish!"_

"We can't choose our fears."

"Yeah, but still…"

Xibalba chuckled. "I wouldn't worry. I suspect you'll find what happens next more… _rational_ in the fear department."

* * *

As Manolo and Joaquin left, the water remained placid. When it was sure they were gone, it began to ripple and sputter. After a few seconds, it spat the rock Manolo had thrown back onto the cobblestones. "Such poor manners. Let's see how _you_ like it."


	4. Chapter 4

"Nuh-uh!" Joao said, crossing his arms and making a face. "Lakes don't talk."

Xibalba mirrored him. "Have you ever met a talking lake?"

"Nope."

"Then you can't know for sure if they exist or not, can you? Now stop trying to bring logic into this. It's getting annoying."

"It's like one of those old scary movies!" the goth boy declared, wiggling his fingers like they were claws. _"'The Lake That Talked!'"_

"If you want to get technical," Xibalba said, "it isn't really the lake. Pop quiz, _niños;_ have you ever heard of a water spirit?"

"Is that like a mermaid?" Sasha asked.

Xibalba shook his head. "Your fables say they live in the water. The daughters of Tlaloc _are_ the water. They can be found anyplace it is, even if it's just a puddle. They'll rise up, form themselves what they think passes for a human shape, make themselves known."

The young girl grinned. "They sound pretty!"

"Yeah? Well, thank every god you can think of that you've never met one. They'll drown you sooner than look at you. Just like that!" He snapped his fingers. "And if they aren't spiteful, they're simply dim-witted. It's a lose-lose thing."

"So which kind is the one in this story?" asked Jane.

"There's both kinds in this story. But the one right now? She's closer to the duller end of things. Perhaps a bit too close."

* * *

A short, thick stream of bubbles and foam floated along the surface of the lake, just next to shore and just out of the humans' sight. In the center of it, the water was ceremoniously carrying a handful of pebbles scooped up from the murky depths. When she saw the two humans again, she took aim and flung one right at the original offender's curly head. It sailed right past him and clattered against a nearby building. "Curses."

Manolo stopped. "Did you say something?"

"Nope," said Joaquin, who kept on walking.

She threw another pebble, this one landing on the ground just near the curl-headed human's foot. He picked it up and looked right at her, although he could not have known. She dropped the rest of the pebbles and began to gently ripple the surface of the lake. Perhaps this would draw him near enough!

"Manny?" Joaquin asked, turning around when he finally realized his friend wasn't following him. Manolo was crouching at the edge of the walkway, staring intently at the water. "What's the hold-up?"

"There's something down there…"

"Yeah, they're called fish."

"No, it's something else - "

_"Perfect!"_ she said.

Manolo shrieked as the water twisted itself up into a pair of spindly hands, grabbed him by his necktie and dragged him face-first into the lake with a single tug.

"Manolo!" Throwing off his sombrero and cape, Joaquin dove into the water after him.

"Look, your friend is coming to visit as well!" she chirped, oblivious as to how Manolo was fading in and out of consciousness. "Wonderful!"

It was nearly too blurry underwater to make out anything, but Joaquin soon caught sight of the dark shape of his friend. His body had gone limp, and a trail of bubbles was streaming from his slightly open mouth. He was moving too fast to be sinking of his own accord, but nothing seemed to be dragging him. Kicking and pushing at the water, Joaquin started to swim down towards him.

All of a sudden, whatever had snatched Manolo was suddenly content to halt his descent and let him float in place. At the same time, something grabbed Joaquin's arms and legs and pulled them taut until he was splayed out like an animal pinned down for dissection. The harder he pulled against it, the harder it pulled back. And then…

Then was either starting to hallucinate from oxygen deprivation or the lake was haunted. Or both. The water was starting to swirl and shimmer in front of him, gradually forming two shapes that vaguely resembled a pair of large green eyes. They moved closer to him, widening and tilting as though attached to a curious head. At the same time, he could feel the grip on his limbs going slack. Wrenching his right arm free, he punched at one of the eyes with all his might.

Both eyes vanished, accompanied by a shrill whistling noise which sounded almost like a cry of pain. The water started to churn, trying to force Manolo further down and Joaquin back up. Charging against the current, Joaquin came just close enough to grab the collar of Manolo's shirt. The whistling came back, although it sounded more like angry disappointment this time. "Where are you going now…?"

_Anywhere but here sounds nice._ Swimming back to the surface, he tossed Manolo onto the walkway and clambered up after him. "Come on, come on, don't do this to us again," he muttered under his breath, trying to squeeze the water out of his friend's lungs. "Maria's gonna kill me and then she'll have to go get both of us and that's gonna be _really_ complicated…"

Manolo jerked and gasped, coughing up several mouthfuls of water. "W-What happened?" he sputtered, his throat and lungs burning.

Joaquin clapped him on the back to force out the last of the liquid. "Word of advice; when you see something creepy in the water, _don't stick your face near it."_

"There _wasn't_ anything! That's just it!"

"Then how do you explain - "

Their heads both whipped around at the sound of water splashing against stone. The arms had come back, longer and more twisted, flailing about and snatching at the air near their legs.

"…That."

* * *

First Manolo leaving early, and now this. Whatever this was. Chuy looked from the front door to Maria and back again. There must have been something very interesting about it today. Why else would she be staring at it for so long? He nudged her leg, pulling her out of her thoughts and getting her to look down. "Ble?"

"You're right," Maria said, readjusting herself on the sofa and trying to read. "That just makes it look like he's in trouble."

The past was haunting him, eating away at him - she understood that well enough. If he couldn't or wouldn't speak of it by himself, then someone had to help him along. "We need to talk" didn't sound right. Perhaps a "You've been quiet the last few days" or "I'm always here for you, you know." Something to remind him that he could trust her. That would work.

She looked up when she heard quick footsteps approaching the door. Rejuvenated, she smiled and put her book down as she sat up. "Manolo, I'd like to…"

Then the door burst open, and her speech collapsed like a house of cards. "What _happened?"_

Manolo and Joaquin, both drenched to the bone, didn't answer. They slammed the door shut behind them, locked it, pushed a small table against it, ran screaming towards the sofa and dove behind it.

Climbing over the sofa's back, Maria landed between them. "Talk to me. Now."

"The lake…!"

"Evil…!"

"Had arms!"

"Had a _face!"_

"Almost drowned…"

"Never going near water again!"

"Enough!" she shouted, and their babbling jolted to a stop. "Take a breath. Okay? Now let's try again."

_"The lake tried to kill us!"_ they said in unison.

"There's something in the lake?"

Joaquin forced a laugh. "No, that would be too easy."

"S-Something was throwing rocks at us so I went to look and the water…I-I don't know, it just made these two arms out of itself!" Manolo waved his own arms around to demonstrate. "And then it pulled me in! It had eyes and I thought I heard it say something, but…wait, where are you going? Maria?"

She was walking towards the mantel, where a pair of swords hung crossed on the wall. "We can't just leave it there," she said, wrenching one of them down and heading for the door. "It might go after someone else."

"What's a sword going to do to it?" Joaquin squeaked.

"Don't know, let's find out. Now show me where this thing is."

With still-shaking hands, Manolo grabbed the other sword and followed her outside. "It was towards the east…"

_"…Seriously?"_ Scrambling to his feet, Joaquin took off after them. "I think I missed something, how is this a good idea…?"

* * *

_Father and my sisters were not far off. Such horrid creatures._ She rubbed her aching eye. _Especially the one with hair on his face._

"…It was right around here, I think."

_Back again?_ _I'd heard you were fools, but not this terribly._ _Oh, well. Time to learn._

The water was bubbling again as Maria approached it. "Did it look something like this last time?" Manolo and Joaquin were slinking backwards, trying to plaster themselves against the nearest building. "I'll take that as a yes." She stirred the water with the tip of her sword. "Nothing's happening…"

"I'll take _that!"_

Maria screamed as the water jerked her sword out of her hands, nearly taking her with it. Manolo pulled her back and sideways just as the blade came hurtling out of the water and stuck in the wall behind them.

Ripping it out, Maria pointed it at the water. "Show yourself!"

The water began to swirl in a circle, as though forming a whirlpool. But instead of pulling itself down, it pushed itself up into a cone. A round head bulged into existence at the top, with long hair of dark green water, while thin arms and hands pushed out from its side. The front of the head began to ripple and distort. Two light green eyes appeared, followed by a small mouth and a pointed nose. The water that made the lower half of her body was a darker blue than the upper half, as though she wore a flowing dress. It sloped back into the surface of the lake.

The water spirit scowled at the three mortals, who stared back at her with bugged-out eyes and slack jaws. "Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?" Her light voice echoed and slipped through the air like a slow river.

"What do _we_ have to say?" Joaquin sputtered, his face turning red.

"You are unkind creatures," she said, crossing her arms and sticking out her chin. "You fled from me without reason. And you!" She snarled at Joaquin, revealing two rows of razor-sharp teeth. "You attacked me!"

"You were going to kill them!" Maria said.

"Lies! I wished to take them to the lake so that we might visit one another in peace."

"You can't do that. They'll drown."

The spirit stared at them with a blank expression. "Drown?"

"…You don't know what drowning is?"

The spirit shook her head and shrank back. "Is it bad?"

"It means we'll die if they stay underwater too long. We can't breathe."

"What is 'breathe'?"

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Joaquin muttered.

The spirit's anger seemed to evaporate, replaced by embarrassment and guilt. She looked away and started to sink back into the lake.

"Wait," Manolo said. "You didn't mean any harm?"

"I swear I did not," she answered. "I know little of humans. You are strange creatures. Complicated. And still rude. You should have said you could not breathe!"

"We can't…oh, never mind." Manolo sat down, his legs dangling over the edge of the walkway. "What's your name?"

"My father calls me Middle Daughter. His other daughters call me Middle Sister."

Maria sat next to Manolo. "What do _you_ call yourself?"

The spirit smiled. "Ixazaluoh! I chose it. But I do not use it often."

"You did choose kind of a mouthful," Joaquin remarked.

"It does not fill my mouth. It is but a word."

"He just means it's a little long," Maria said. "You could use it more if it was shorter."

"How so?"

"Something simple. How about…how about Ixa?"

The spirit grinned, oblivious to how unsettling it looked with her teeth. "You are indeed clever! Many of them say you are clever."

"Who's them?" Manolo asked.

"The gods who speak favorably of Xibalba's humans." She rested an elbow on the walkway, staring up at him in awe. "You are the human who outwitted the great Xibalba. The one they call Manolo."

He nodded. "What do you mean, gods who speak favorably of us?"

"The many gods of Aztlan!" she declared as though it was obvious.

"And some of them know what happened with us last month?" Maria asked.

"All of them know. There has been much talk of what is to be done with you, I hear."

_"What?"_ the three of them asked, blanching.

"And it is said they have reached a decision."

"What decision?" Maria demanded.

Ixa started to say something, then suddenly looked up. "I believe," she said, "they wish to tell you themselves."

Directly above their heads, a small point of light was hovering in the sky like a star. It flickered once, then shot down a bright beam that enveloped the three mortals. They shielded their eyes from it, then began to flail and shout as their feet lost the ground. An invisible force was quickly pulling them up into the sky, and San Angel faded from view within seconds. Grabbing onto each other, they squeezed their eyes shut and huddled together as the world faded into white.


	5. Chapter 5

Sanjay raised his hand. “Is this about the Rapture? Because the lady who lives next door is gonna be really angry that she missed it.”

"Tell her she can quit worrying."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"You decide. Now stop interrupting, all of you!" Xibalba bared his teeth at the children, who jumped back and fell silent."Good. All right, where was I…? Ah, yes. The gods were all gathering in Aztlan to take part in these curious proceedings, and many preparations had been made to receive the three notorious humans. That’s not to say they were getting the welcome wagon, of course…"

* * *

 

The white light turned to a thick mist. The air was humid and steamy, the kind you could choke on if you weren’t careful.The trio’s movement went from flying to falling, but they barely had time to register it before they were dropped down into another body of water with a loud splash.

Manolo stumbled, fell beneath the surface and came up sputtering and flailing. His panicked movements lasted a few seconds, then slowed and stopped as he realized there was nothing to flail against. When he stood up, the water only reached his knees.He looked at Joaquin, who was staring down at the pool in shock and a hint of frustration. “Well…could be worse.”

_"Where is she?"_ Maria was already back on her feet, kicking the water and muttering curses to herself. “What did you do to us? Where are we? Tell us!”

"Maria?" Joaquin said. "I don’t think they like that."

She shot him a questioning glare. “Who’s ‘they’?”

He pointed behind her. “Probably no one nice. Just a guess.”

A dozen or so streaks of bubbles and seafoam were rushing across the water’s surface towards the mortals. Hisses of malicious delight filled the air as they formed a circle around their victims. They reared up, twisting themselves into hunched shapes with wild hair, buggy eyes and long, sharp nails which they used to slash at the air where the humans had stood a second before -

_"Irse!"_

The water spirits shrieked and dispersed as the bow of a long, broad wooden boat cut through the water and mist. It seemed to be moving of its own accord, and it glided to a stop next to the three mortals. The hull was covered in elaborate, worn carvings of jagged figures and lines. It drew their eyes up the side of the vessel, towards the worried gaze of its sole passenger.

Kneeling down, La Muerte held out a hand to them. “Come with me. At once!”

Manolo took her hand, and she swept him up into the boat. Maria and Joaquin looked around, saw the water spirits regrouping and accepted when she reached out to them. The monsters slammed against the boat and clawed the wood, foaming at the mouth and gnashing their teeth.

The candles on La Muerte’s hat flared up. “Away with you, heartless creatures! Go back to your father. Tell him to expect me.” With a wave of her hand, the boat slid backwards and turned around. The spirits retreated into the mist, snarling.

La Muerte’s anger faded to sad concern as she looked at her friends. “I suppose it was rather sudden.”

"No kidding," Maria muttered as she tried to wring the water out of her hair.

The goddess turned her gaze to the route ahead. “I’m sorry,” she continued. “This is my fault. I would have gone to warn you, but the rules forbade it.”

"And _now_ that’s a problem,” said Maria.

"It is this time."

"La Muerte, what’s going on?" Manolo asked with a quiver in his voice. "What is this place?"

"See for yourselves."

The mist rose up and rolled away as though it had hit a barrier. Manolo, Maria and Joaquin blinked and winced in the sudden light. When their eyes adjusted to it, they gasped and stared slack-jawed at what lay before them. “No way…”

The boat were gliding along a wide, shallow lake, that was clear now. They still seemed to be on the outskirts, but they were swiftly approaching the center. Before their eyes, a sprawling city was rising up from the lingering mist. Broad, golden pyramids towered over one another like a range of mountains. Wide walkways cut through the sky between the buildings and over the web of canals. Vines covered in flowers sprouted from between bricks and sloped down the pyramids’ steps. The watery pathway their boat wound its way through was lined with rows of large flowers and trees in hundreds of colors. Soft pastels, dazzling jewel tones, rainbows on a single petal.

La Muerte picked a blossom with crystalline, translucent petals from the ground. “Prisms of Aztlan. A shame they only grow in this place,” she added, dropping it in the water and watching it float away. The mortals looked up at her, confused by the remark. “We are only summoned here in grave times. Or what some of us believe are grave times.”

"So what’s the problem?" Manolo asked.

She drew herself up and tried to sound confident. “Nothing that can’t be fixed in an hour’s time.”

Joaquin looked up at the walkways. Faces made of tree bark and stone, scales or multicolored flames or things he could hardly describe, peered down at them. Some gasped and pointed, some laughed and waved, some sneered and slid out of sight. “Gettin’ a few mixed messages here…”

"No need to trouble yourself," La Muerte told him. "It’s the big guys you need to worry about."

The boat began to slow down as they approached the largest building of them all. It was less of a pyramid and more like the facade of one against a giant brick. It didn’t seem to have windows, only more carvings up and down the walls. There were scenes of warriors fighting large beasts, two groups playing in a ball court, an entire town gathered around an altar and watched a knife be plunged into a struggling child. Maria looked away, beginning to quietly seethe once more.

On the front of the building, a giant carved jaguar head stuck out and formed a doorway with its gaping mouth. A wide set of stairs led down to the shore, where the canal ended in a circular pool. The boat slid up to the bottom of the stairs and stopped. “Stay close,” La Muerte said as the quartet disembarked and ascended the steps. “Just because you’ve been summoned here doesn’t mean you’re welcome.”

Joaquin increased his pace and walked in front, approaching the jaguar head. “Seems okay so far,” he said, not noticing that the statue’s jeweled eyes were glinting. “I mean, besides the obvious stuff, but…AAAHHH!”

Had he been standing a few more steps forward when the jaguar clamped its mouth shut, he would have been crushed. Instead it snagged his cape, drained the blood from his face and sent him springing off the ground. His friends jumped as well, their hands over their mouths.

La Muerte only sighed. “Let them pass,” she said to the statue. “They’re with me.”

The statue growled but opened his mouth once again, its eyes growing dull once more.

"You three do everything I tell you," La Muerte said as she and the trembling humans crossed the palace threshold. "When I say stay close, I mean _stay close.”_

* * *

 

A short stone hallway led to a set of stout double doors, and through them lay the _real_ front hallway. Torches covered the walls, casting so much light that they drowned out the shadows. Wrapped around the whole room was a mural wherein a serpent cloaked in bright feathers floated above a bustling jungle and city. It dissolved into a swirl of colors as it reached the ceiling, which was held up by two rows of thick stone pillars covered in more carvings. Between each one was a shallow, circular pool of bubbling water.

The mortals could hardly stop to be overwhelmed by the room itself, for their eyes were quickly drawn to its inhabitants. Dozens of gods - they could only be gods - filled the hall, chattering in voices that came together like low thunder. Some looked vaguely human, others were animals and others were twisted, abstract piles of material with faces. There was hardly one among them which had what could be called flesh: they were carved from jewels or made of light, and one even had skin like a woven basket. Most of them looked coldly down at the mortals as they passed, and the already dwarfed mortals shrank even more.

"Ignore them for now," La Muerte whispered. "You have friends here."

In a corner of the room, several individuals were gathered around a loud, large and thankfully familiar figure. “So then the cave guardian, y’know, he comes up and does his whole thing,” said the Candle Maker, waving his arms around. “And he’s bringin’ the sword down and the kid’s still standin’ there and I’m just thinkin’ this ain’t gonna be good. And then WHAM! Y’all got one busted sword and one awesome kid!”

One of the gods with him, a dark-skinned woman in a dress made of rose petals, saw the four approaching and squealed. “There they are!” She darted away from the group and knelt before the mortals, the faint scent of chocolate wafting from her skin. “Which is which? Oh, don’t tell me.” She closed her eyes, then smiled and opened them again almost at once. “The lovers, of course,” she said, gesturing to Manolo and Maria. “I shouldn’t have had to look for it.”

"What were you looking for?" Maria asked.

"Your love! It’s even stronger than I imagined. Radiating." She giggled at the thought and beamed. "See?" she said, turning back to her companions. "I told them it was all done out of love. Now they’ll have to listen."

"This is Xochi," La Muerte said. "Protector of love in all its forms. She’s the only one who’s been looking forward to this."

"Not quite," a deeper voice rumbled.

The mortals looked in its direction, and for a moment they thought the tree outside San Angel had somehow uprooted itself. The being now approaching them had its broad trunk and draping leaves, and the bark was cracking apart to form two eyes and a mouth. It had no arms, and it walked on its roots like they were tentacles. Sitting on one of its branches was a giant golden eagle with an inquisitive eye turned on the newcomers.

La Muerte curtseyed. _"Hola,_ Itzamna.”

The Candle Maker bowed and motioned for the mortals to do the same. “Y’all gotta show some respect for your maker.”

"Which is the mortal whose pages are blank?" Itzamna said. His voice was soft and gentle, yet a greater power stirred beneath it.

Manolo stepped forward. “That would be me, sir,” he said, bowing his head.

"Blows your mind, doesn’t it?" the Candle Maker added.

The eagle cast an eye on him. “You’re the one who said it couldn’t be done!”

"I didn’t say it like it was a good thing!"

"Ehecatl, tell the kings that the mortals have arrived." Once the eagle had flown away, Itzamna stretched out a root and lifted Manolo’s head up. "Does the Candle Maker speak the truth about you and your companions?"

"I think so…"

"Then my work has not been in vain."

"We’ll see about that!"

Oozing across the room towards them was a dark green blob of something that might have been water. Its cleft lip was drawn up in a sneer, and its buggy eyes glittered with disdain as it fell on the mortals. “All that you had to work with, Itzamna, and you picked flesh. Disgusting.”

La Muerte’s candles flared up at the sight of this new being. “Do you know where your daughters have been, Tlaloc?”

He smirked. “I pry not into my daughters’ affairs.”

"Liar!"

"Who is that guy, exactly?" Joaquin asked.

"The god of water," said the Candle Maker.

"Oh, so you’re the jerk who’s been messing with us all morning!"

The gods all glared down at him, while Maria covered her face with both hands and shook her head. “I am a _what?”_ Tlaloc snapped.

"I…I’m just gonna go over here…" He backed away, bumping into what he thought was a pillar. When he turned around, though, he saw a large being made of stone sitting on a bench. "Sorry!" The being did not look at him, or even lift a finger. "I said I’m sorry."

"I’m over here, boy!"

Joaquin jumped and screamed yet again as a figure popped out from behind the nearby pillar. He was made of cracked rock held together by lava, and iron plated his arms, shoulders and chest. A simple leather apron was tied around his waist, and a short sword was strapped to his back. He let out a hearty laugh as he saw Joaquin’s terrified face. “A doll in my likeness. Not my finest trick. Only a fool could possibly think of falling for it.” He raised an eyebrow and grinned knowingly.

"Look, I don’t really know how things work around here…"

"I can tell." Pushing the doll away, the god gestured to the bench. "Sit with me awhile, mortal."

"Thanks - "

"What did I tell you about staying close?" La Muerte shrieked, jerking him away and glaring at the other god. "I’d like to get my friends through this _without_ being cooked alive, Tohil,” she snapped, gesturing to the heated stone Joaquin had nearly sat on.

Tohil’s smile turned to a scowl. “After the proceedings, La Muerte. After the proceedings.”

"Xibalba only needs to explain himself to Quetzalcoatl, and this whole matter will be settled."

"If he’s capable. Where is he, anyway? Too ashamed to show his face?"

"He’s coming of his own accord."

"Let go of me…!"

The hall fell silent as the double doors burst open. In marched two statues, dragging a struggling figure by both his wings. Dropping him on the floor, they turned and went.

"Thanks for being gentle," Xibalba muttered. Picking himself back up, he folded his wings in and readjusted his crown before noticing the sea of faces around him. "What are _you_ looking at?”

"You have brought this on yourself, Xibalba!" Tohil shouted at him. "You knew this day would come."

Xibalba rolled his eyes and groaned. “It’s a joy to see you, too, _friend.”_

Tohil drew his sword and stomped towards Xibalba. “We are not friends!”

"So you still have no concept of sarcasm. Good, just checking. Now will _someone_ tell me what I’ve been dragged up here for?”

"You are here because your human-loving ways have proven to be your downfall!"

"I don’t love humans, let’s get _that_ out of the way right now.”

"Then why were you foolish enough to let one outsmart you?"

"So I’m a fool? I don’t want to know what you are, then."

"You haven’t answered me, _coward!”_

"Brute!"

"Unworthy!"

"Unqualified!"

"Skirt-wearer!"

Xibalba gasped and recoiled, a hand flying to his chest as his pupils rotated from half-skulls to full ones. “You take that _back…!”_

_"Xibalba!"_

The crowd was parting, and another figure was walking through it towards the bickering deities. His skin was made of obsidian, and it cracked like wrinkles. His long, dark grey beard brushed the ground as he walked. Even hunched over as he was, he could still look down on his younger counterparts.

At the sound of his voice, Xibalba had frozen. At the sight of him, he shrank back, crossed his arms and looked at the floor.

"There you are, Kisin!" said Tohil. "Tell him what a fool he is."

Kisin brushed past him without a glance and approached Xibalba. His dark red eyes mirrored the younger god’s brighter ones. “I don’t need to, do I?” he said softly.

Xibalba flinched and bit his lip, but still didn’t look up. “No, Dad.”


	6. Chapter 6

The children all went slack-jawed, and the goth boy gasped for five seconds straight.

Xibalba eyed him through half-closed lids. "Breathe."

The boy did so and closed his mouth a second before promptly opening it again. "You have a _dad?_ Can you…can you _do_ that?"

"You think that's bad, just wait until you have to read about what went on in Greece back in the day. What was your idea, that we reproduced by budding? On second though, don't answer that."

Joao leaned over to Sanjay. "Who the heck was his mom…?"

_"I heard that!"_ Xibalba had a finger ready to flick him across the room, but pulled backat the last second. "What I mean is, that's for another time. For now, let's talk about dear old Dad. You know me, you know a little about him. Enough to guess how our little reunion went. Well, to a point."

* * *

'Awkward' seemed like such a small word at that moment. Inappropriate, even. Almost everyone in the room was averting their eyes from Xibalba and Kisin, staring daggers at the former or, in the mortals' case, trying to find the nearest exit.

La Muerte stepped forward and took her husband by the arm while smiling at her father-in-law. "He's just a little surprised to see you, Kisin. That's all."

"Very true," Xibalba added. "I'd have figured you were too busy decomposing somewhere."

_"Balby…"_

"What? It's technically true."

Folding his arms behind his back, Kisin turned away from them and began to walk around the room. The hem of his dark robes spread out around him so that he might have been floating. "Is it true, Xibalba?"

"You'll have to be more specific."

"Your last _wager,"_ he continued, grimacing at the word.

"…Ah. That." He began to twiddle his fingers. "First off, the boy only won because - "

"And where are these mortals now?"

"How should I know?" Then Xibalba saw how his father was looking around the room and did the same. "Oh, _what_ have you done now?" he said when his gaze fell on Manolo.

Kisin pivoted around and strode towards the mortals, who froze at the sight of him. Towering over them, he stared into their eyes one by one. "So this is how my son amuses himself these days. That's the reason we're all here, you know."

"We didn't," Manolo finally said. His eyes darted down to his hands, memorizing the look of them just in case they were about to be reduced to bone yet again. "I mean, we didn't realize what a big deal this all was…"

"There are no excuses in order today," Kisin said. "Only apologies."

_"Lo siento, señor."_

"Not from you. From me. I know _he_ won't." His look softened as he knelt down closer to their level. "You three did not deserve what he did to you. Or what he had you do to yourselves," he added with an extra glance at Manolo.

Xibalba crossed his arms and slouched against a pillar. "So you're still soft, then."

Kisin rose back to his full height but didn't turn around. "Only to those who are deserving of it."

_"Almost_ sorry to interrupt," Maria said, "but no one's said why this had to involve us nearly drowning and getting kidnapped."

"You were _summoned,"_ Tlaloc said. "An honor of which you are unworthy. Do you not see this for what it is?"

"Oh, I do, alright. Just not in the way you're thinking."

"How dare you speak in such a manner to a god!" Tohil shouted. "Hold your tongue!"

"Not until we're told what's going on!"

"Your insolent mate," Tlaloc said, "has evaded the death he deserves and made fools of us all. For this offense against the gods, he and all his kind must be purged."

Maria's eyes narrowed into slits. "Right. You have fun with that."

Xibalba snorted. "And I thought my realm was boring. The last time we had to have one of these was when Tally got drunk and made it rain fire. And now we're having it over a useless wager? That was won _fairly,_ might I add? Whose idea was this?"

Neither his father nor his wife would answer him, or even look at him. "I guess that's another surprise…"

"Of a sort."

The new voice came from behind Xibalba. He stiffened, drawing in a sharp breath, but wouldn't turn to face the new gap forming in the crowd. Walking towards him was a grinning skeleton cloaked in feathers and blood stains, his empty sockets somehow managing to gleam with malice.

A hush fell over the gathered deities. Kisin and La Muerte glared at the newcomer, Tlaloc and Tohil smiled at him and the mortals recoiled from him. "Who's _that?"_ Joaquin whispered.

"His name is Mictlan," Itzamna said. "He is the one who has brought you to this place. And the reason Manolo still lives."

"Excuse me?"

"You should be grateful," the god continued, "that Kisin's throne went to his younger son."

"Something troubles you, little brother." Mictlan circled around Xibalba, stopping in front of him. "Are you not pleased to see me once more? Am I not clever?"

A flurry of emotions were swirling in Xibalba's face when he looked up, including several Manolo thought he would never see on the death god. Anger in how he gritted his teeth, disgust in how he averted his eyes. Disbelief in how wide they were, old sorrow and pain in how they were glistening. "Why are you here?" he finally said.

"I know my way out of prisons, Xibalba. You must remember."

"Yes…"

Mictlan's grin widened, and he leaned in closer. "You wanted this to happen, didn't you?"

Xibalba kept his eyes downcast and said nothing.

"Yet all those eons ruling," Mictlan continued, "and you never thought of ending my torment."

Now Xibalba's head snapped back up. "We had to put you down there for a _reason,_ and you know it."

"Had to. So _now_ you're caring about Father's wishes."

"I cared about protecting myself and my wife!"

_"Always_ about yourself."

"What do you call these little stunts of yours, then?" he snarled.

"Justice. For myself and my kind." Mictlan growled as he caught sight of Manolo, Maria and Joaquin. "Mortals in the halls of Aztlan. Your ideas remain ever questionable, dear La Muerte."

"Ancient rules," she answered in a clipped tone.

"You really think," he said, "that I still care for the ancient rules."

Xibalba shot a grim, forced smile at the horrified Manolo. "Starting to warm up to me now, aren't you?"

"That's enough!" Kisin snapped. "From both of you."

Xibalba bowed his head, while Mictlan crossed his arms and swore under his breath.

The Candle Maker slid over to La Muerte, who was biting her lip. "You still think this was the best idea?"

"Yes," she answered, a bit too quickly.

"So what's your idea of justice this time around?" Xibalba said after a quick silence.

Tlaloc tapped a spot on the wall, and a panel of the mural slid open to reveal a dark, narrow corridor. "Your wife has insisted that if we are to punish you, we must go about it the proper way."

Ehecatl came flying out of the tunnel back into the room and landed on one of Itzamna's branches. "The kings demand that Lord Xibalba and the three mortals be brought before them."


	7. Chapter 7

"This is why I stick to wagers," Xibalba muttered. "All of the fun and none of the formality."

With the four accused uncomfortably sandwiched between Mictlan and Tlaloc, the deities formed a single-file procession down the passageway. It went in a straight line for an apparent eternity before suddenly dipping and twisting like a rabbit hole. Then they were shuffling along a square staircase that spiraled deep into the earth, each turn abrupt and sharp. The only light was the faint flickers of La Muerte’s candles, forcing those in front to feel their way along the damp walls.

Joaquin could have sworn the water god was breathing down his neck, if it was capable of breathing at all. Manolo and Maria reached for each others’ hands and gripped them until it hurt. Xibalba stared at the back of Mictlan’s head as though he was trying to shoot a stream of fire through it. So much so, in fact, that it took him half a second to realize when his brother had stopped walking. “What?” he snapped as he readjusted himself, trying to ignore the dozens of eyes trained on him.

Mictlan didn’t seem to care. “Remarkable how little he’s changed, isn’t it?”

He had brought them to the bottom of the stairs, and now they were standing before a pair of tall stone doors. Mictlan gave them a light tap, and they swung inwards. “My kings. I bring before you my brother and his mortals.”

They were entering a large, circular room with a low ceiling and torches lining the wall. The colors of the surface were gone, replaced by dark gray bricks. A giant carving of the serpent from before wove its way around the torches and wrapped around the room. In the center of the floor, there was no floor. Instead there was a wide, deep pit that came close to spanning the length of the room. The only thing preventing some clumsy soul from falling into it was a thin metal fence that spiked and spiraled up from the cracks in the stones. Around the pit in almost a full circle was a shallow moat filled with clear water. It pulsed and swelled as the group approached. Up rose the twelve water spirits from before, assuming feminine forms with flowing hair, sharp features and icy stares. They were joined by a thirteenth, one with a familiar face and an awkward wave for the three mortals.

"Fool!" the spirits on either side of her hissed, splashing her skin as they slapped her.

Ixa shrank a bit and bowed her head. “My apologies.”

On the other side of the pit, a fenced dais jutted up and stretched out over the abyss. Atop it perched a figure who was smaller than most of gods but still taller than the mortals. Black scales covered his body, highlighting the yellow stripe running across his face. He was dripping with feathers and jewels, and his bright green eyes lit up at the sight of the group. When he spoke, his voice was more of an airy hiss. “Where are they?”

Mictlan stepped aside, gesturing to the quartet. “Here, Tezcatlipoca.”

Rolling his eyes, Xibalba wiggled the fingers of his right hand in a sort of wave. “Afternoon, Tezzy. Is your brother awake? We’d all like to get this over with.”

The four of them flinched, but just barely, as Tezcatlipoca sneered and flicked his forked tongue at them. “Quetzalcoatl awaits. Step forward.”

"Go on, _queridos,”_ La Muerte told the mortals when they looked back at her. “He won’t hurt you.”

Holding their breaths, the three friends walked with Xibalba to the edge of the pit, grabbed the railing and peered into the nothingness.

They only saw a void of shadows and the faint outlines of jagged rocks. But then, from deep within they abyss, they thought they felt something move. A very large, very slow something. Then they could hear a soft, deep rumbling from within the pit and see the loose rocks surrounding the edge start to tremble. A shape lighter than the darkness was materializing from the shadows bit by bit, until it finally reared its gigantic, colorful head.

The top of Quetzalcoatl alone made the rest of the gods look like ants. Patches of dark scales were faintly visible beneath the explosion of feathers that covered his body. Bright reds and deep blues, forest greens and maize yellows, sunset oranges and royal purples. He slowly opened his two great eyes, and his irises were shifting between the various colors of his feathers. When he saw the mortals, his slitted pupils widened. **"Little ones. Welcome."**

The mortals’ knees buckled and gave way, and even Xibalba found himself wanting to look at the floor.

**"I have heard much about you three in the past days,"** the plumed serpent continued. His mouth did not open: rather, his voice seemed to come from every place at once and reverberate in their skulls. **"And you, Xibalba. It has been many centuries since the last time you graced my home."**

"Something like that…"

**"I understand you are here because of another wager."**

"A wager I held up my end of, by the way. Don’t I get points for that?"

Tezcatlipoca hissed at him. “Not when you have lost to a lowly human…!”

Quetzalcoatl growled. **"Silence, brother. You may speak when I have finished."**

The smaller deity scowled but remained silent. “Very well.”

With a hum of approval, Quetzalcoatl returned his attention to his guests. **"Tell me more of this wager."**

Xibalba chuckled and let it trail off. “It’s a pleasant but very long story…”

"He tricked me into taking my own life," Manolo said quietly.

The corner’s of Tlaloc’s lips turned up in a malicious grin. “And with what ease did he manage that?”

"I’d rather not…"

"Out with it!"

**"Let him be, Tlaloc. We are concerned only with the matter of the second wager."** Quetzalcoatl focused on Manolo. **"You said you died, and let you kneel before me a living man."**

"He said I would live again if I completed a task of his."

"And was this task fairly done to Lord Xibalba’s satisfaction?"

"Technically, yes," the winged god answered. "I did my part, and now here he is. _Yaaay,_ happy ending. Can we all go home now?”

**"All was restored to its former order? As it was meant to be?"**

Manolo’s throat seemed to close up, locking the words inside. “Well…it’s…it’s not really as simple as that.” He realized that his friends were both staring at him and cast his eyes downward.

A murmur ran through the assembled deities. “He is not telling us all that he knows!” Tohil proclaimed. “We cannot let him walk free!”

"Their story is no different than what I’ve been telling you all along!" La Muerte snapped at him.

Another growl from Quetzalcoatl, and they all fell silent once more. **"Enough,"** he said. **"I wish to hear no more of your petty arguments."**

Joaquin finally dared to speak up. “Does that mean we’re okay?”

**"That,"** said the plumed serpent, **"I cannot yet see. I wish to judge you further."**

_"What?"_ the quartet blurted out before they could stop themselves.

Flashing his grin, Mictlan stepped forward. “My king,” he said, “surely you do not mean to judge them this instant. What if they proved unworthy?”

"He is right, brother," said Tezcatlipoca, emerging from the shadows once more. "For your own safety, their merit must be determined." He shot a look at the Candle Maker, who was clearly on the verge of saying something. "Passage into the Cave of Souls is one thing. Judgement from the king of the gods himself is another."

Quetzalcoatl’s eyelids drifted half-closed, as though he was falling deep into thought. **"I fear not for my safety. But the ancient rules must be upheld."**

The silence from the crowd was broken by a sharp, cruel peal of laughter. “You think I’m too stupid to get it? I know about those trials. I know what happened to everyone who tried them. And now you’re going to put a group of _mortals_ through them?”

"I thought you were no friend of mortals, Xibalba," said Tohil.

"And I thought this was about being fair."

**"Indeed it shall be. The mortals shall not be judged alone, for you shall guide them."**

"Now that’s what I…" Xibalba paused as the words sank in. _"…_ _Perdón?”_

"True," said Tezcatlipoca. "But the trials must be solved by one’s wit and not by power." Smiling, he looked at Xibalba and snapped his fingers.  


"Don’t you dare - " Xibalba’s threat ended in a cry of pain as he doubled over, gasping for breath. One feather fell off his wings, then two, and then a whole clump.

La Muerte tried to rush forward and had to be held back by Xochi and Kisin. “Balby…!”

Now his wings were practically shredding themselves apart. He sank to the ground as they were reduced to two piles of feathers on the ground. His crown vanished in a puff of smoke, and his snake went slithering off into the shadows.

"Lord Xibalba," said Tezcatlipoca, "you are stripped of your powers until you and your mortals complete the ancient trials and are judged by my brother. If you are found deserving of them, they shall be returned to you. If not, your brother Mictlan shall wield them from henceforth."

La Muerte’s hands flew to her mouth. “No…”

**"That is not a facet of the ancient rules, brother - "**

"We shall discuss it further," said Tezcatlipoca. "The matter is settled. The trials shall commence tomorrow morning."

"And _that,”_ said Xibalba, “is why I don’t come up here anymore.”

The shellshocked mortals barely heard him. _"Dios mio…"_

* * *

 

"Yeah, no kidding!" the goth boy exclaimed. "They were, like, totally ganging up on you and stuff! And now they wanna kill you! AAAAHHH!"

"Oh, how _ever_ will that turn out.”

Sasha stared up at him worriedly. “But did Manolo and Maria and Joaquin make it out?”

The death god sighed. “I’d like to say yes. But then our story wouldn’t be nearly as fun, now would it?”


	8. Chapter 8

It would have been kinder for the gods to throw them in an actual dungeon. At least it wouldn't have been a subtle insult.

The room in which the four prisoners had been placed had either the remains or the potential of elegance about it. Not that it really mattered, because it wasn't going to do anything with them. The gray stone walls were unadorned even with simple carvings or murals. There were no windows to let them see where in the city they were, or what time of day it was. The only piece of furniture was a large bed, which was shoved in a corner and impeccably made. Joaquin ran a hand across the sheets and found them smooth and soft, finer than any cloth back home.

Maria slouched against the wall and glared at nothing in particular. Barely a minute after they had been left alone, she went back to the door and began furiously jiggling the handle. "Just let me figure out the lock on this and..."

"It's magically sealed," Xibalba told her. "We're only getting out of here when they decide to let us. You might as well kick off your shoes and get comfortable." He slunk from the path of the boot that Maria threw at him.

"Wait," Manolo said, suddenly looking up. "Do you hear that?"

They all stopped to listen, but the only sound they could hear was their own breathing -

_Plink. Plink, plink, plink._ Droplets of water were falling from a crack in the ceiling, one by one. The group's eyes followed one of them downwards. One of the bricks had been removed from the floor, and the droplets were forming a bubbling pool in the crevice.

The quartet flinched as the water twisted itself into a cone and sprouted appendages, spraying spare droplets on them. "You should sleep," Ixa said as she shook her hair out. "The rest will serve you well come morning."

Xibalba scowled at the water spirit. "Begone. _Now."_

"Father says I have no reason to fear you, Lord Xibalba."

"Oh, and _he's_ so trustworthy. "

"What do you want with us now?" Joaquin asked.

Ixa lifted her head and puffed out her chest. "I asked King Tezcatlipoca to appoint me as your guard during your time here! And he agreed!"

"Because you're so good at not almost killing us," Maria muttered.

"I am to ensure that you do not escape and that you do not unfairly succeed in the trials. And," she added, "I promise not to drown you."

Xibalba sneered. "A daughter of Tlaloc's promise is worth nothing."

"You should be grateful that he did not appoint one of my sisters first."

"That's very...considerate of you, Ixa," said Manolo with an air of forced decorum. "But I think we need some time to ourselves for a while now. It's been a long day..."

"I understand, one called Manolo. I shall return in the morning." She sunk back into the pool, then suddenly popped up again. "And remember, no escaping! And no unfairly succeeding at your trials!" As she vanished again, they heard her voice echoing off the chamber walls. "There, that ought to do it..."

"Great," Xibalba said. "We still aren't rid of her. _Wonderful_ work, Manolo."

"She sounds like she wants to be friendly," Manolo answered. "We need all the friends we can get up here." He let himself fall backwards onto the bed and closed his eyes. _When I open them again, I'll be home. Please?_

"Don't say I didn't warn you. Enjoy being eaten alive."

_It was worth a try._

He felt Maria lie down beside him and wrapped an arm around her torso. Sighing in relief, he curled up against her and buried his face in her hair. At least she was here, as selfish as that sounded.

"Talk to me," she whispered, drawing circles on his chest with her finger.

"About what?"

"Anything."

"I don't think I like gods very much."

"Excuse me?" said Xibalba.

"Alright, _most_ gods."

"They're probably listening. Best you go to sleep before you say something that gets us all killed early." Yawning, Xibalba stretched himself out on the floor. "Besides, you'll need it. I'll give the water hag that much."

"Well, you heard him," said Joaquin as he followed suit.

_But I don't want to,_ Manolo thought. _It doesn't work._ "...I'll try."

Maria draped an arm across his chest. "I got you."

Placing his free hand over hers, Manolo squeezed it and let his eyelids fall shut. With only the sound of his companions' breathing to be heard, he was soon drifting away.

When he opened his eyes, his flesh had turned to bone. He stood in the bullring once more, and the great _toro_ was aflame with rage as it advanced on him. He plucked a few strings on his guitar, trying to find a tune. Perhaps a song would calm it...

With a flick of its horns, the creature sent him flying across the arena. He slammed into the wall, and everything went dark as he shattered into dust.

* * *

"Really puts most bad days into perspective, doesn't it, kids?" Xibalba said with a smirk. "Think about that next time you lose your Internet privileges." He looked askance at Sanjay as the boy slowly raised his hand. "Really? Just go ahead, it saves us all the awkwardness."

"What are these trials you keep talking about?" the boy asked. "Are they like when Manolo had to get through the labyrinth to talk to the Candle Maker?"

"Imagine that," Xibalba said, "and then imagine things a hundred times more difficult. And that's _before_ my dear big brother decided to join the fun."

* * *

The next sunrise found the three mortals wincing in the bright light and shivering in the early morning cold. "Why do you guys even _need_ a sun up here?" Joaquin whined. "Just magic up that stuff or something...!"

"Calm down," Xibalba told him. "You'll be away from it before long."

The four of them stood on the steps of another large, square building in the heart of Aztlan. This one was made of deep black marble and covered in carvings of moons and stars. Below them, the gods crowded on the walkway and in boats on the canal as they looked up anxiously. Behind them stood Tezcatlipoca and Mictlan, who held a burning torch in one hand and a pair of sticks topped with glowing embers in the other.

"The first test Xibalba and the mortals shall face," Tezcatlipoca proclaimed, "is here in the Dark House. With these three lights, they must survive in its halls until sunset. When that hour comes, they shall return with these flames not a shade softer than when they entered. If they do not, they have failed."

"That's impossible," Manolo whispered.

Maria crossed her arms and stared ahead. "Exactly."

Mictlan handed the embers to Maria and Joaquin, and his grin widened as he held the torch out to Manolo. "The most important task for the most important mortal."

Manolo didn't look at him as he wordlessly took the light. It was heavier than it looked, with a base made of bronze, and his hands trembled as he tried to keep it upright.

"Nothing for me, I suppose," Xibalba said.

"Balby!"

The god turned at the sound of his wife's voice. La Muerte had broken from the throng and was walking up the steps towards him. Reaching into her hat, she plucked a single goldenrod feather from the mass of color and pressed it into his hands. "Bring this back. For me."

He smiled a bit in spite of himself. "Can't refuse an order from _mi amor,_ now can I?"

She kissed him on the cheek, and it took all his willpower to keep himself from melting. With another dark look at her brother-in-law, La Muerte slipped back into the crowd.

Tezcatlipoca rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. "The first trial now begins."

The quartet turned to face the Dark House as its doors slowly creaked open. Inside lay a wide corridor cloaked in shadow. Holding their breaths and their objects, they walked into the darkness.

Tezcatlipoca and Mictlan watched them go. "Do you have it?" the king whispered to the death god.

"Yes, my king."

He looked over his shoulder and saw the gods beginning to disperse. "Release it."

Mictlan reached beneath his cloak and pulled out Xibalba's snake. "Follow the mortal protecting the torch," he said as he dropped the creature on the ground. "You will know what to do when you find him."

They were unaware of a pair of green eyes watching them from the canal. Ixa sank into the water and slipped away as the snake slithered after the quartet, the doors of Dark House sealing themselves behind it.


	9. Chapter 9

"You know what?" Joaquin said. "I change my mind. Can we go back to being blinded? That was nice."

He could barely see the hand that he waved in front of his face. None of the four could. The torch and the embers only gave off meager light, and beyond that was a black void stretching out all around them.

"Should we just wait here?" Maria asked. Her voice reverberated around the room, scaling the gargantuan walls and flying off down the hall.

"That’s what they’ll expect," Xibalba said. "If I were you, I’d move along before the walls start closing in."

She rolled her eyes. “Right, like they’d be _that_ open about getting rid of us - “

_Rrrrrrrr._

The mortals’ heads whipped left and right, along with their light sources. In their shallow field of vision, they could make out tall, dark shapes rumbling towards them at a steady pace.

Xibalba’s eyebrows rose and fell in a single, almost indecipherable motion. “Told you.”

Grabbing her husband’s free hand, Maria nearly dragged him along as she set off at a brisk pace. “Joaquin! _Ándele!”_

"You say that like it’s necessary…!"

As soon as they began to move, the encroaching walls began to slow their movement. By the time they reached the end of the corridor and crossed under the towering archway to the next room, they had stopped altogether.

"Okay," Maria said as she leaned against Manolo, trying to catch her breath. "Standing still, bad. Walking, good."

Xibalba slid past the three of them. “You learn quicker than most. Just don’t let them know that.”

* * *

 

"They didn’t say anything about having to find our way back out when the time’s up," Manolo said. "Did they?"

"Depends on how they’re feeling," Xibalba told him. "Probably not too charitable, in this case. We’ll deal with that when it comes," he continued. "You just worry about that torch."

It seemed to grow heavier at the mention of it, as though mocking its bearer, and Manolo slumped under its weight. “Wonderful advice.”

They couldn’t possibly last a day like this. Had they even lasted an hour so far? “How should I know?” Xibalba had said when Manolo had asked, too focused on something in his hand.

The long, straight halls began to cross one another. Then they rose and fell and twisted, transforming into a mangled tapestry of pathways. Xibalba led the group, and the mortals huddled together close behind. They turned innumerable corners, trudged up and down steep staircases, went in circles and through passages already traversed. At one point, Joaquin stumbled and found himself staring into a wide, deep crevice they hadn’t realized they were walking alongside. Their steps were small and hesitant after that, never straying more than an inch or two from the center of the floor. The darkness forced them to keep a hand on the walls which could turn against them once more at any moment. Xibalba’s eyes occasionally darted to the object he was holding, but never behind him.

"If you’re lost," Maria finally said, "you can just say so."

"But then I’d be lying. Can’t have that, can we?"

Manolo felt her fingers curl around his. “It’s going to be fine, Maria…”

_Ssss._

He stopped and whirled around, his hand slipping out of hers. Holding out the torch, he slowly waved it back and forth. Not a soul other than his. He thought he saw a dark shape curl up against the wall, but it was gone when he looked closer.

"Hmm." Giving the hallway one last scan, he turned back around to follow the group. At least, he would have. Instead he found himself staring at a wall which had certainly not been there a few moments before.

The blood drained from Manolo’s face as he touched the barrier, and then pounded on it. “Maria!” he shouted. “Joaquin! Xibalba!” The walls flung his own voice back at him. He backed into a corner, clutching the torch with both hands and struggling to keep it upright. “They’ll realize you’re gone soon enough…you just need to wait…don’t panic…”

_Sssss._

The noise came from below him. When he looked down, a long purple snake was coiled around his legs. The two heads looked up at him and hissed in unison as they bared their fangs and lunged.

Manolo’s scream echoed through the halls, and the fragile flame blew out as the torch clattered to the ground.

* * *

 

Maria and Joaquin’s heads whipped around. “Manolo!” They took off back down the hallway, their embers flickering dangerously.

"What are you doing?" Xibalba said. "Don’t follow that, it’s probably a trap!"

Joaquin would be annoyed with him later. “Manny!” he shouted. “Say something!”

Maria yelped as she tripped over something and nearly fell. It was the torch, a thin stream of smoke seeping out from where its flame was supposed to be. She gasped at the sight, but it was nothing compared to what she saw when she looked a few feet away. “Manolo…”

He was slumped against the wall and curled up into a trembling knot, his hands over his head and his face buried in his knees. His breathing was loud and ragged, and his shoulders heaved up and down with quiet, muffled cries.

Xibalba caught up to them and saw the torch first. “What did you do, boy?”

"You stay out of this," Maria said. She handed her ember to Joaquin, then knelt beside her husband. _"Chitón, mi amor,"_ she murmured, wrapping her arms around him. “I’ve got you.”

"You wouldn’t have to be stooping to such a level if I’d won the wager, you know - "

"I _said_ stay out of this!”

Still shaking, Manolo lifted his head. “Maria…?”

She nodded and wiped off the tears on his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

"I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drop the…"

"Never mind the torch. Are _you_ okay?”

"I think so. I-I thought I heard something, and then I saw…"

Maria kissed his forehead. “You can tell us what happened later.” She picked up the torch and examined it. “Right now we need to fix this.”  
  
"And how are we supposed to do that?" Xibalba sputtered. "Stick a candle inside the thing and pretend it’s still on fire? They aren’t _that_ stupid.”  
  
"We need to relight it."  
  
"With what? We don’t have any fuel."  
  
Maria looked up at him - not his face, but his hands. The death god followed her gaze down to the feather he was still clutching. _“Absolutely not,”_ he snapped, slipping it behind his back.  
  
"I’m sure La Muerte would understand," Maria said. "Unless you think she’d rather see us all dead."  
  
Grumbling something under his breath, Xibalba handed her the feather. She wrapped it up and stuffed it into the base of the torch. “Joaquin, give me the embers.”  
  
"But - "  
  
"I’ll be careful with them."  
  
When she had the two sticks in her hand, she pressed the smoldering ends to the feather. “Come on, come on…” She pressed harder, and thin lines of smoke began to rise up from the feather. Small flames soon followed. Another minute, and the torch was burning just as brightly as before.   
  
"See?" Maria said, pulling the sticks out. _“_ _Pedazo de la torta.”_ The others, however, were only staring at her in horror. Or, in Xibalba’s case, exasperation. “What now?” she began to ask before catching sight of the sticks. The embers were gone, crushed into nothing by her plan.  
  
"Do enlighten me on what we’ve actually accomplished here," Xibalba said. "I’m not seeing it."  
  
"We need embers," said Maria, her face a mask of forced tranquility. "Or something else that glows."  
  
"Nonsense - "  
  
"Like those?" Joaquin said, pointing upwards.  
  
The others looked towards the ceiling. High above them, almost too faint to be seen, were tiny floating lights that moved in a hazy cloud, flickering on and off.  
  
"Fireflies," Manolo said.  
  
"Must have gotten stuck in here somehow," Xibalba added.  
  
Maria stood up. “Someone give me a boost. I might be able to catch a few.”  
  
"They wouldn’t stay," Xibalba told her. "Not unless you gave them a reason to."  
  
The room fell silent for a few seconds as the quartet watched the insects hover over them. So when Manolo began to hum, quiet as it was, the sound seemed deafening.  
  
Xibalba gave the young man a look. “Unless you were _extremely_ horrible to bugs as a child, I don’t think you need to apologize to them for anything.”  
  
Maria and Joaquin both glared at him, then looked back to their friend. He was whistling now, the notes moving up and down, long and short in a lilting pattern. His fingers plucked at invisible strings, searching for the right chords. He didn’t sing a word, and yet the song still carried meaning. It seemed to speak of home and friends, of strange yet wonderful things, of happy times long gone and those still ahead.  
  
The cloud of fireflies began to descend and enveloped the four of them, hanging in the air like little stars. Hesitantly, Maria held out the sticks. Two of the fireflies broke from the crowd and came to rest where the embers had been.   
  
Even Xibalba had to blink a few times before he could tell that it was an illusion. “Very…impressive, I must admit. We’ll have to see if the others buy it, of course…”  
  
Somewhere outside, a large bell began to ring. Though faint, it was still deep and echoing, and Xibalba looked up at the sound of it. “The sun’s setting. We need to get back to the entrance.”  
  
"So now can we worry about that part?" Joaquin asked.  
  
"If you want to waste your time. My idea’s better." Xibalba gestured to the ground. When the mortals looked, they saw a line of thin red thread stretching back down the hall.  
  
"Where did you get _that?”_ they all asked.  
  
The god smirked and opened his right hand, which had been clasped shut the whole day. Inside sat a tiny ball of the thread, nearly spent. “I fear I’ve been somewhat rubbing off on my wife.”

* * *

Tezcatlipoca’s eyes flicked between the doors of Dark House and the crowd reconvening below. “Did it work?” he asked, watching the snake coil around Mictlan’s arm.  
  
"It nearly scared him back to death," Mictlan answered with a chuckle. "He dropped the torch. Have you done your part, my king?"  
  
"Tohil is making the arrowheads as we speak, and I shall handle the enchantments."  
  
The crowd held its breath as the doors began to open. Mictlan hid the snake under his cape. La Muerte clasped her hands, Ixa bit her lip, and Kisin stroked his beard. The two gods at the top of the steps watched the four shapes emerging from the darkness with bated breath.   
  
"Xibalba," Tezcatlipoca said, "you and your mortals have - "  
  
"Evening, boys!" Xibalba practically flounced into the open with the torch in one hand, the fireflies in the other and a grin plastered across his face. The mortals followed him, trying not to draw attention to themselves. "We have what, exactly?"  
  
His brother and the king were briefly too flustered to speak, which only made his grin wider. “You have…succeeded the first trial,” Tezcatlipoca finally said.  
  
"Oh, look at that. Seems we did. Anyway, here’s your stupid torch and your stupid embers." He shoved them into Mictlan’s hands. "Now how about we all eat or something? They’re probably starving, and I could use a drink."  
  
"I’ll have a feast prepared," La Muerte said, smiling.  
  
 _"Gracias,_ my dear. Doesn’t that sound lovely, everyone?” he said, clapping Mictlan on the back.  
  
The sudden jostle caused his brother to drop the snake. He scooped it back up in the next moment, but even that was enough time for Manolo to see the animal, and for angry realization to darken his features.  
  
Xibalba saw the change on the mortal’s face and caught a glimpse of a purple scale beneath Mictlan’s cape when he looked back at his brother. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, beginning to slowly slink away, “I have some business to take of. Come on, Manolo.”  
  
"What sort of business?" Tezcatlipoca demanded.  
  
"Just a few quick words."

* * *

"What did you do after that?" the goth boy asked.

"I did what little brothers are best at," Xibalba answered. "I _tattled.”_


	10. Chapter 10

Kisin must have known what was going to happen. He did not join the others in the kings' dining hall that evening,and there was no sign of him when Xibalba ventured through the palace looking behind every door he came across.

"I believe," Ehecatl said when Xibalba rejoined the group with a sullen look, "that I saw him by the water."

The old god was standing on a bridge stretching over the canal, doused in silver moonlight. His chin rested on his steepled fingers,and his glazed eyes stared off down the watery pathway.

Stopping at the foot of the bridge, Xibalba stared up at his father and cleared his throat. "Mictlan cheated."

Kisin's eyes flickered for a moment, then returned to their former position. "Hmm."

A sense of frustration not felt in millennia flaredup in Xibalba at the lack of response. "He sent my snake after Manolo to make him drop the torch!"

His father finally turned to look down at him. "Are you certain of this?"

"I saw him hiding it when we came out, and the boy told me so himself."

"I was not aware that you had decided to begin heeding the words of mortals."

"It's worth more than _his!"_

In a half-floating sort of walk, Kisin approached his son. "You said Manolo dropped the torch."

Xibalba deflated slightly. "I only said Mictlan tried to make him drop it…"

"And he succeeded. And yet the torch was lit when you returned."

"Something like that…"

"Then who are you, Xibalba, to accuse your brother of unfairness?"

He began to shrink back, but then stood his ground. "It's not like that, Father."

"Then explain to me why he should be punished for committing the very act that brought you here?"

"Because I'm trying to fix things and get those mortals out of here in one piece!"

Kisin laughed cheerlessly. "I know you better than you know yourself, boy. All you want is to wash your hands of this affair and go back to tormenting mortals with a clear conscience."

Xibalba's hands balled into fists as he gritted his sharp teeth. "Would you just _listen to me_ for once, old man?"

"What is the meaning of such insolence?"

They both turned. Standing by the water were Tlaloc and Tohil, and Mictlan lurked behind them.

Kisin nodded to the new arrivals. "How timely of you," he said. "My son has something he wishes to speak of with his brother."

"Oh, so that's how we're doing this? Fine with me!" Shoving the two elder gods aside, Xibalba got right in Mictlan's face. "We know you sent my snake after Manolo today."

Mictlan let his jaw drop slightly. "I did no such thing."

"We saw you!"

"What reason have you to accuse your brother so?" Tohil said, scowling at Xibalba.

"The universal reasons," Mictlan said. It was infuriating how his eye sockets could twinkle with malicious mirth. "Envy of the elder child. A sense of feeling threatened. Perhaps with a sense of inferiority."

"Do you want to stop now, or would you rather find out what your teeth taste like?"

"Enough!" Kisin said. "Do you have the word of another god to support this claim of yours, Xibalba?"

"I…" As he looked around, Xibalba's eyes happened to fall on the water. A spirit was poking her head up, the same one that insisted on following them around. She was staring at Mictlan, and accusations unsaid were flickering in her wide eyes. The creature tried to slip away when she noticed Xibalba, but his pupils were already rotating to stare deep within her. She froze in place under his gaze, trembling. He saw fear, confusion, anger. The sight of the snake slithering through the closing doors flashed before his eyes. "She does!"

The others all looked down at Ixa, who was trying to sink away. "The water spirit?"

"I looked in her mind. She saw him send the snake out."

Kisin knelt before the water. "You are Tlaloc's middle daughter, are you not?"

"Y-Yes, sir."

"Does my son speak the truth about what you saw today?"

"Sir, I…" Her gaze drifted away from Kisin to her father, and Xibalba's gaze followed. Tlaloc was staring daggers at the girl, as though daring her to speak up. Her resolve, already fragile, slowly buckled and broke under his gaze. "I saw nothing."

"Oh, _come on!"_ Xibalba exclaimed. "Are you seriously going to let that big lump control you?"

Ixa, however, had already sunk back into the water and was fleeing in a thin stream of seafoam.

"There you have it!" Tohil proclaimed. "In the future, Xibalba, I suggest you hold your tongue concerning such matters. Unless you want to lose it." He and Tohil went back inside, leaving Mictlan to smirk at his brother.

"See?" said Xibalba. "Look at him! You can tell, can't you, Dad? Dad…?"

Kisin gave him a dark look, then went to follow the others.

"Ah, little brother," Mictlan said. "Still not clever enough." He slipped off into the night, leaving Xibalba alone.

"It's not as bad as you think." Xochi was standing on the bridge, looking down at him with pity.

"What?" Xibalba snapped. "You're here to tell me that Dad _really does love me_ or whatever?"

"He does," the goddess answered, "but I think it's become rather hard for him to show it. And if I may be frank," she added before vanishing, "you're not making it any easier."

* * *

_You poor little fool._ "No, not poor," Ixa said. "Just a little fool."

The water spirit had found a secluded bend of the canal and was tracing shapes in the water. It wasn't safe to go back home yet. Not after Father had nearly seen her break. Her sisters would probably leave her half-dead when they learned how close she had come. "Perhaps you should sink to the bottom of the lake and never come up again. You would not be missed…"

"Are you okay?"

Ixa looked around. Standing behind her was Joaquin, clasping his hands behind his back and trying not to look like he'd heard as much as he had. "You…ahem, you seem a little upset."

She turned away. "It is not something a mortal would understand, one called Joaquin."

He took a few steps closer, nervously eying the space on the walkway next to her. When she gestured to it, he sat down. "You can just say Joaquin, you know."

"Fine. It is not something a mortal would understand, _Joaquin."_

"I'd still like to hear about it," he answered, shrugging.

"Why?"

"Because Maria dragged Manny off to talk about something and you're the only person here who feels sorry about trying to kill us. Not that you tried! But…sorry," he finished, withering under her glare.

Ixa sighed and went back to looking at the water. For a few minutes, the two of them sat in silence. "I fear I'm not very good at guarding you," she finally said.

"Well, we haven't escaped yet."

"I mean from those who would see you dead."

The soldier stiffened. "What happened?"

"I saw Mictlan send a snake into the Dark House to frighten your friend."

Joaquin's eyes widened. "Manolo."

She nodded. "Xibalba saw, too. They asked for the word of another god, and so he looked to me."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"Father would not allow me."

"Wait, you mean you dad is in on whatever Mictlan's planning?"

"I do not know."

Joaquin started to get up. "Well, if he is, then you've gotta tell someone - "

"No!" Ixa said, pulling him back down. "To speak against my father would…" She stopped, then recoiled. "They would not believe my word."

"…That's not what you were about to say."

"I will not tell you," she said, averting her eyes and crossing her arms. She needed no more shame. How close she had come to sharing her private matters with a simple human…who was the first in Aztlan to heed her words…

"Well, if you're not going to do anything - "

"To speak against my father would mean a terrible punishment," she blurted out.

Joaquin stopped. "What do you mean?"

No going back now. "Out of all his daughters," Ixa said, "I am the only one he hates, for am not monstrous enough to his liking." A trembling hand subconsciously went to her throat. "I am always the prey when my sisters practice hunting."

Joaquin was staring at her in shock now, a hand over his mouth.

"They would tear me apart if they learned that I betrayed him, and he would watch," the water spirit continued. "And rightfully so."

"No. No, you don't deserve that," Joaquin said. "No one deserves that. Why don't you go to one of the other gods in secret or something?"

"They do not wish to anger my father. The power he holds over the Land of the Living is too great. And…"

"And?"

"And he is my father. He made me what I am. I owe him my loyalty."

"Not if he's gonna control you like that!"

"You do not understand, human."

Joaquin was quiet for a few seconds, as though debating whether or not to keep talking. "I understand more than you think. I mean, not all of it. But parts of it…I've been there."

Ixa looked up at him in disbelief. "Your father despised you as well?"

"No, not like that! I never met my dad, actually. But when I was ten, Maria's dad kind of took me in. That's how I got into the army so early." He paused, then kept going. "He had me training, like, all the time, and he didn't want me talking to Manny. He said I was better than that. I was gonna be the greatest hero ever. And I guess I was just so happy to have a family that I bought into it."

Ixa moved closer, her hand hovering over his. "What happened?"

"I already had a family. I just didn't realize it until I'd lost them both." Joaquin sighed. "He didn't even let us grieve after Manolo died. Had a wedding dress ready for her and everything. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't let us talk about it. I knew it was all wrong, but I didn't know what to say. I'd never felt so…so…"

"Helpless," Ixa finished.

"Yeah…and I guess I kind of woke up after that." He touched his eyepatch and winced. "I swore I'd never take my friends for granted ever again. That's why I need to keep them safe. Even from your dad."

"You are very brave to think of standing up to him," Ixa said, staring at him in awe.

"Ah, he's not that scary."

"Still braver than I."

"Hey, you're talking to me, aren't you? I bet he wouldn't let you do that."

Ixa paused, then gasped. "You're right!" She slid back into the water and began to sink away. "I must go."

"I didn't mean to scare you off - "

"The fault is not yours. But being seen with me would put you in danger."

"So you're not gonna come back?" Joaquin asked, his voice lightly laced with disappointment.

She looked him over. "I will try to visit you and yours if I can. If I cannot, then I wish you luck in the remaining trials. Farewell, Joaquin." Ducking beneath the surface, she melted back into the lake.

Joaquin thought he heard a happy, disbelieving laugh bubble up from the water, and he couldn't help but mirror it. "I just talked to a blob of water."

Still, she was a surprisingly nice blob of water.

* * *

The stars over Aztlan were scattered helter-skelter across the dark blue sky. Maria couldn't make out any constellations that she knew of. Not that she was very interested in doing so. "You did good today," she said, taking Manolo's hand as they walked along a bridge connecting two buildings.

Manolo squeezed her hand. "I'm just glad you weren't the one with the torch."

"What happened back there, exactly? You never said."

"It doesn't matter anymore."

She gave him a sharp look and pulled him to a stop. "You're still thinking about it, so _yes,_ it does."

He seemed to consider his options, then turned to face her. "I think Mictlan wanted me to drop the torch. He sent a…he sent _something_ after me. I didn't see what it was."

_He's lying,_ Maria thought with an ache in her chest. "Are you sure?"

_"Sí."_ Manolo looked up at the stars, then at the lights on the other end of the bridge. "It's getting late," he said, starting to walk away. "We should get some rest."

"I think I'll stay out here just a little longer," Maria told him. "If that's alright."

She could tell by the look on his face that he knew something was wrong, but he nodded nonetheless. When she was sure that he was gone, she rested her head in her hands and let out a sorrowful, frustrated sigh. "What am I gonna do with you…?"


	11. Chapter 11

"And so the night passed by. When morning came, all too soon, we found ourselves being escorted to the site of the next…" Xibalba trailed off. "What are you doing, boy?"

Joao had taken a small notepad from underneath his hat and was scribbling away with a pencil. "I'm making a diagram," he answered, showing his handiwork to the others. A variety of crudely drawn figures were scattered across the page and connected by sharp lines. "So you're married to La Muerte and you have a dad and you also have a brother who's trying to kill the four of you. Since your brother's working with the lizard guy, he's _also_ trying to kill the four of you. And so is that water guy. But then La Muerte and her friends all want to help, so you've got two opposed factions…"

"All this god stuff sure is crazy," said Jane.

Goth Boy nodded eagerly. "Just like Game of Thrones!"

His friends all gasped. "You _watch_ that?"

"I'd rather get through this story _today,_ if you don't mind," Xibalba snapped, making his audience fall silent once more. "Everyone listening? Don't really care, but good. We found ourselves being escorted to the site of the next trial, in another great house of Aztlan. A house even more deadly than the last."

* * *

It was, without fail, the tallest and narrowest building any of the three mortals had seen. Its bricks were a silvery gray, and the only adornments on its facade - barely wide enough for the quartet to stand side by side - was a single wooden door. The walls sloped together as they rose into the sky and formed a steeple, or perhaps the tip of a sword. There was no telling how far back the building stretched.

"That," Tezcatlipoca said when he heard the mortals discussing it under their breaths, "is precisely the point." He turned back to the crowd gathered below them. "The second trial Xibalba and his mortals must face is to walk the length of this hall. If they reach the other end and emerge from the door, they shall have succeeded."

The mortals gaped. "That's _it?"_

Xibalba, on the other hand, was staring up at the facade of the building. "Isn't this the House of…"

"The second trial now begins!" Tezcatlipoca proclaimed, snapping his fingers. The door opened, and the quartet yelped as an invisible force swept them off their feet and into the hall. Mictlan slammed the door behind them and latched it.

"Mictlan," the king said as he beckoned his partner over, "when, pray tell, was the last time your jaguars tasted human flesh?"

"Many centuries ago, my king. Pax tells me they have nearly forgotten the taste. It angers them."

Tezcatlipoca smirked. "They shall be angered no longer. You may tell your warriors that they shall feast well tonight."

* * *

It had to be either a joke or a trap. Most likely both.

When the four regained their balance, they found themselves staring down a long, straight road of a corridor. At the far end, a few minutes' walk away, was a plain wooden door mirroring the one they had entered through. The stark walls seemed almost too close together, and Maria thought she saw thin slats in between the gray bricks.

"Something's wrong here," she said, taking Manolo's hand. "Everyone keep close."

Sticking out a foot, Joaquin stomped on the tiled floor. The noise echoed through the room, but nothing more. He took a tentative step forward, and then another. "Whatever it is, they're hiding it pretty well…"

"Xibalba?" Manolo asked. "Do you know what they call this house?"

Maria put a hand up to silence them. "Listen." The faint sound of clicking gears was coming from behind the walls, and the slats were beginning to widen inch by inch. Maria's eyes widened with them, and the blood drained from her face. "Joaquin! _Look out!"_

Joaquin began to turn around, then jumped as a knife came shooting out of the left wall and sailed towards his head. It grazed his ear, drawing a few drops of blood, and fell to the ground on the other side of him.

"They call it," Xibalba said, "the House of Blades."

Throwing his arms around his wife, Manolo pulled her to the floor and covered her body with his own. They had barely hit the ground when a flurry of knives and swords flew out of both walls, sailing through the space they had been occupying a second earlier. The sound of whistling air and clattering metal flooded their ears and pumped fear through their veins.

"Manolo," Maria gasped out, "we've got to get moving."

He loosened his grasp just enough for her to slip out of it and roll onto her stomach. Reaching a hand out, she began to crawl forward, then screamed as a slat in the floor sent a small knife up between her spread fingers.

Joaquin had already given up trying to move and was lying on his back, his single eye wildly trying to follow each blade. "What do we do what do we do _what do we do?"_

Manolo flinched as a sword landed near him, followed by a second and a third. Grabbing two, he slid them towards his friends. "Maybe we can deflect them!"

"Are you _crazy?"_ Joaquin shouted at him.

"We can't do much else!" He looked at Maria, who nodded and grabbed one of the swords. "You with us, brother?"

With a shaking hand, Joaquin grabbed the third sword. "On your signal."

_"Uno…dos…tres!"_

Leaping up at once, the three amigos took off down the corridor. Manolo and Joaquin stood back to back, circling each other as they swung their blades at whatever came their way. Maria danced ahead, twisting her body out of the weapons' paths when she wasn't knocking them aside. The door leading outside slowly but surely grew closer.  
 _  
_More slats opened up, and the rain of metal grew even thicker. The mortals stumbled as they jerked away from unexpected attacks, yelped as stray knives caught bits of skin. "There's too many of them!" Joaquin shouted above the noise and nearly getting a dagger through the mouth.

Another new slat beg to appear, outside his line of vision. By the time he saw it, it had opened fully. His friends looked on in horror as it began to spit a blade at his face -

_SPLAT!_ A wad of tar slammed against the crevice, sealing it tight. Xibalba was making his way through the mess, two more wads forming in his clenched fists. "Turns out this stuff is useful for something after all. Who'd have thought."

He put out his hands, and waves of tar flowed out from his skin. They coated the walls, nearly stopping the flurry of blades altogether. The hidden machinery began to groan, as though backed up.

Manolo dropped his sword and grabbed Maria's hand. "Run!"

Frantically dodging the remaining knives, the three friends rushed forward and hurled themselves at the door. There was the screech of splintering wood, the feeling of a barrier giving way, then blinding light and shocked voices and warm stone.

Bit by bit, Manolo's eyes readjusted to the light. He was prostrated on his back, and the sky stared down at him. As his breathing and heartbeat slowed, he felt a hand touch his. Looking to his side, he saw Maria lying next to him with a proud, relieved smile on her face. "Not bad, _guitarrista."_

He stood up, helped his wife to her feet and pulled her into a tight embrace. "You're hurt," he said when she winced.

"Not too bad." She reached up and touched his face. "I might not even be here without you."

"Hey, what about me?"

The couple laughed as Joaquin threw his arms around them both. "You too, _amigo."_

"Impossible!"

The harsh voice pulled them back to reality. Mictlan and Tezcatlipoca were glaring down at them, flanked by a sea of apprehensive faces. "No one has survived the House of Blades," the death god snapped. "Certainly not a mortal. What trickery is this?"

Xibalba slinked towards his brother. "No trickery. Sorry to disappoint." He smiled as he conjured up another wad of tar. "We made a bit of a mess, though."

Mictlan gaped. "The king stripped you of your powers!"

"You can't strip natural powers that easily." Xibalba's expression darkened. "You should know, brother."

Tezcatlipoca was trying not to fume. "It would seem," he said as he turned to address the crowd, "that Xibalba and his mortals have completed the second trial."

The crowd erupted in cheers with La Muerte leading. Itzamna stretched out some branches to lift the mortals up and carry them back to the palace, most of the deities forming a procession around him. Even Ixa's bowed head hid an overjoyed grin.

Tlaloc, Tohil, Tezcatlipoca and Mictlan watched the crowd march away. "My warriors," the death god hissed, "will be most unhappy at the loss of their feast."

"Not a loss," said the king. "A postponement. Besides, they will appreciate it more when they have caught the food themselves."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this next chapter, I'd like to thank my Tumblr friend captainaperture for naming the Cazadora de Dios. Yes, that is the dagger from Apotheosis. I like it, I'm keeping it and you can't make me get rid of it.

_"Ow!_ Maria…"

"I told you to hold still. It'll hurt less."

"Yeah, but that implies it's gonna hurt no matter what."

"You lose an eye, and _this_ is what you decide to complain about."

"She's got a point, _amigo."_

"Just wait and see how you like it."

Manolo started to laugh, then gasped loudly and recoiled as Maria dabbed some salve onto the gash in his arm. _"_ _¿Qué fue eso?"_ he groaned, wincing.

His wife smiled, a mixture of sympathy and bemusement. "See what I said about holding still?"

The knives had cut more deeply than the mortals had realized in the heat of the moment, especially on Manolo and Joaquin. Once the adrenaline wore off, pain gradually replaced it. Maria insisted on dragging the boys back to their room to look at the wounds as soon as they returned to the palace, despite the gods' protests. When they stepped inside, they were greeted with the sight of a table filled with bandages, cloth and bowls of water and salve, along with a single marigold.

After cleaning off the blood, Maria had moved on to the cuts themselves, which was easier said than done. "Most of them aren't too bad, really," she said, wrapping a bandage around Manolo's arm. "They should be alright in a day or two."

Manolo looked up at her. "We don't have a day or two. You know that." If anything, Mictlan and Tezcatlipoca would probably be more eager to force them through the next trial in the state they were in. He shuddered at the thought.

If Maria was discouraged, she hid it wonderfully. "There must be something else we can do."

"Might I be able to help?"

The three of them turned around. Ixa had risen up from one of the water bowls, holding something in her hands and looking at the mortals expectantly.

"That's not exactly what I had in mind," Maria said coolly.

"Let her talk," Joaquin said. "What is it?"

Ixa held out her hands. In them was a lump of water-soaked moss. "These grow in the caves beneath Aztlan. I have found them good for healing oneself."

Maria gave the moss a suspicious glance. "Are you sure?"

"I risk much by coming here, one called Maria."

Taking the moss from the spirit, Maria gently pressed it against a cut on Manolo's back. He stiffened, sucking in air through his teeth, then suddenly relaxed once again. "Oh…"

"Does it hurt?"

"Just for a second."

She pulled back to look at the wound. It had knit itself closed, leaving only a thin, pale scar. "Wow…"

"That should be enough for all three of you," Ixa said. "But I can bring you more if you need it."

_"Gracias,_ Ixa," said Manolo, nodding to her.

"It is my honor." Her eyes turned curious as they wandered to his bare chest.

Maria walked between them, blocking her view. "That one's mine, dear."

"Of course." Her gaze briefly flashed towards Joaquin, then to the ground. "I should go before Father begins to ask for my whereabouts."

"If you can come back," Joaquin said, "you're welcome to."

She smiled at him, then sank back into the bowl and vanished.

"What?" the soldier said, feeling his friends' eyes on him. "She's okay. A little weird. But okay."

Maria went over his wounds with the moss, then tossed him his shirt. "Okay, out."

"Why?"

"Because it's my turn." She smirked at Manolo, who blushed.

"Great, and what am I supposed to do?" Joaquin asked.

"You could go find Xibalba," Manolo suggested.

"I'd rather not, to be honest."

"Then I'll go later."

"Why do care about what he's doing?"

"He said it was something important."

* * *

Of all the times for the stupid passageway to be locked. "Come on, come on…"

"If seeing Quetzalcoatl was that easy, we wouldn't be holding the trials."

Xibalba turned, not even bothering to force a polite smile. "I'm not five hundred anymore, Father," he said, punching the wall panel one more time.

"Then act like it," Kisin said, staring down at him.

"Is this about what happened today?" Xibalba asked. When Kisin didn't answer, his anger faded to apathy. "And here I've been, thinking you might have actually approved of me for once. My mistake. Won't happen again."

Kisin slowly paced around the palace foyer. "To be able to approve of you would be an indescribable feeling."

"Dad…Dad, just tell me what I need to do and I'll do it."

For a moment, Kisin's stony expression seemed to be on the verge of weakening. Then it stiffened back into its familiar mask. "I fear it would not be in your nature." Turning his back on his son, he walked away.

Xibalba slumped against a pillar before he could stop himself and let out a deep, sorrowful sigh. "How would you even know…?"

"Need some help?"

It was the last voice Xibalba wanted to hear at the moment. "Oh, no, not you!" he snapped, twisting around to look for Manolo. _"Anyone_ but you!"

The young man was leaning against another pillar, staring up at the god. "What's wrong with me?"

"Receiving pity is bad enough. Getting it from _you_ would be intolerable."

"No one said anything about pity. I just figured we might as well stick together." Manolo walked towards Xibalba, ignoring the dark look being sent his way. "What were trying to do before he showed up?"

"So you saw all that."

"I thought we weren't talking about it."

Xibalba looked back at the wall panel. "My brother wants us dead, and I think Tezzy's in on it. I need to get to Quetzalcoatl and tell him what's been happening."

"And?"

"The door's locked. It's never locked."

They were silent for a few seconds, the unspoken questions nearly visible in the air.

"…Seriously, _what_ is the problem with you and your family?"

_"Now_ you want to talk about it. Make your mind up, would you?"

"My wife and my best friend were nearly killed today. You just said your brother wants us dead. I think we deserve to know why."

"But do you really want to?"

_"Xibalba."_

The god sighed, and his eyes drifted up towards the ceiling. "When he showed up two days ago, it was the first time I'd seen him in thousands of years. You couldn't have told, really. He hasn't changed a bit…"

* * *

The Land of the Forgotten could almost have been called beautiful, at least in its own strange way. One could traverse the vast cave free from the danger of falling on a spike. Simple, yet elegant carvings covered the light gray walls. Tiny villages dotted the landscape, marked by softly burning torches. The coiled stone castle of Lord Kisin towered above all, not separated by a lake of lava and free to all who desired an audience with the old god.

He sat solemnly upon his throne, listening to the broken words of the souls who came seeking an ear for their sorrows. "To give you peace," he often said, "is beyond my power. But I can ease your pain." It was no Land of the Remembered, but the Forgotten still had one another. As long as one could hear them, they were strong enough to keep themselves from dusty nothingness.

Outside, the Forgotten shrieked and scattered in all directions as they heard two familiar laughing voices. On a ledge sat two boys, centuries old but barely adults to the unknowing eye. They snickered as they threw rocks at the spirits below. One boy, made of tar and showing the beginnings of a white mustache and beard, aimed his throws so that they sailed just over his victims' heads. The other, a grinning skeleton, hurled rocks right at their faces and cackled when the impact made them burst into dust.

The younger brother flinched at the sight. "Doesn't that seem a little harsh?"

"They're _mortals,_ Xibalba. They're too stupid to care."

"That doesn't mean they deserve to be killed so terribly for it."

"How would you punish them, then?"

"Let them stew in their own wickedness until they turn to dust by themselves. It's more poetic that way, don't you think? And it means I can have more fun taunting them!"

"Not quick enough for me, brother." Mictlan threw another rock. "When Father gives me his crown, I'm going to purge them from his land. From _all_ the lands."

"Even the Land of the Remembered? I doubt La Muerte would go along with that."

"She will if I marry her. Then she would have to do everything I say."

Xibalba raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever actually met her, brother?"

He halfheartedly shook his head. "I'm better off than you in that regard. I haven't let that _estúpida_ _chica_ poison my mind with her useless ideas."

_"What did you just call me?"_ A flash of golden light, and a young woman in red with dark hair and sparkling skin stood glowering over them.

Mictlan glowered back. "Speak of the devil. Come on, Xibalba. Let's get out of here."

"I'll catch up in a bit. There's…some more rocks I want to throw, yeah!"

The other two didn't buy it, but Mictlan slinked off anyway. "Very well."

Xibalba felt his cold face turn warm as La Muerte sat down beside him. "I don't know why you hang around that troublemaker so much, Balby. He's a bad influence."

"He's the only friend I've got down here."

She put a hand over his. "You've got me."

"R-Right…"

La Muerte grinned, relishing the effect she was having on him. "You're cute when you're nervous."

"You'd love seeing me around Dad, then."

"What's wrong now?"

"He keeps wanting me to listen to the Forgotten with him. Do you have any idea how depressing that is?"

"It's necessary work."

"But it's not me. It's him."

La Muerte lightly stroked his beard. "I think it could be you. You just don't realize it yet."

"What if he names me successor? What am I gonna do then?"

"Then you'll be a fine ruler. A much better choice than Mictlan, if I do say so myself."

"Xibalba!" The sound of Kisin's voice echoed through the cave.

The younger god groaned. "I gotta go."

"Meet me back here this evening?"

His face lit up. "Can we?"

"If you cooperate with your father." She vanished in another burst of light, leaving behind stray marigold petals.

_The things I do for that lady._ He headed back towards the palace, unaware of the scheming eyes fixed on him from the shadows.

* * *

"Pssst! Brother!"

Xibalba looked up from the book he was reading to stare at the figure in the doorway. "Mictlan, what are you doing? It's the middle of the night!"

"Does it matter to things of great importance?"

"What things?"

His brother grinned and held out a beckoning hand. "Come and see."

They slipped across the hallway to the elder brother's room, looking around furtively. "So what's this all about?" Xibalba asked in a whisper.

"I want to show you something I've been working on."

"I didn't know you were working on anything."

"I need it to be a surprise. So you mustn't tell." Kneeling, Mictlan reached under his bed and pulled out a small, wooden rectangular box. "Ready?"

"Yeah…?"

"Then prepare to gaze upon _true_ power." He slowly, grandly opened the box.

When he looked inside, Xibalba let out the breath he had been holding. "It's just a dagger."

"Wrong!" Mictlan said, picking it up and waving it in his face. "This is the most dangerous weapon in all the lands."

It had a long, thin blade carved from obsidian and a stout bronze handle inlaid with large rubies. The whole thing seemed to give off a faint green aura, or maybe Xibalba was just that tired.

"What…what is it, exactly?" the younger god asked.

"I call it the Cazadora de Dios," said Mictlan. "God-slayer. It need only strike once to destroy a soul forever, be it mortal or god. And that's not even the best part! When you kill a god with it, it takes their power and gives it to you! Now we can deal with La Muerte in the way she deserves!"

"What?"

"Once we take her power, we shall control the Land of the Remembered and its people shall be ours to destroy. You shall rule it, and I shall rule the Land of the Forgotten, and together we shall bring justice to the Land of the Living…don't you like it, Xibalba?" His grin had not faded, even as his brother began to slowly back away from him in horror.

"I've…I've never seen anything like it."

"So you'll join me."

"I need to think about it." Before Mictlan could answer, Xibalba had turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. When he found the strength to walk again, his feet carried him not back across the hall, but down it.

"What do you want, boy?" Kisin said when he finally opened his door after the incessant knocking.

"I need to talk to you, Dad. Now."

* * *

"What happened after that?" Manolo asked. They were both sitting on the foyer floor now, and the mortal had hung on the god's every word.

"He told me to go to bed, that he'd deal with it," said Xibalba. "When I got up the next morning, Mictlan was gone." He looked down at his hands. "Dad wouldn't tell me where he was. He said it was safer for me if I didn't know. La Muerte told me he escaped before they could come for him."

"What did he do with the knife?"

A grim smile crossed Xibalba's face. "I found that out the hard way."

* * *

The crown was heavy, but it was nothing compared to the new weight on his back. Xibalba groaned as he flexed the wings which had been his father's a few hours before. "I am _never_ gonna get used to these."

"They suit you." La Muerte wrapped an arm around his and rubbed the gold ring on his finger.  
The combined stress of the coronation and the wedding had been too much to bear and sent them both fleeing outside for a hint of peace. The voices and music were only somewhat quieter than they were within the palace.

"I still think you're crazy to agree to this, my dear."

"You don't want this?" she asked, stroking his face.

He melted at her touch. "It's all I've ever wanted."

"I could tell."

His expression brightened as he pulled away from her. "I got you a present!"

"Besides yourself?"

"Close your eyes."

She did, and a moment later, she felt a sudden new weight on her head. _"Ay,_ Balby, it's beautiful!" she said, marveling at the giant hat covered in marigolds and feathers.

"You know what the best thing about it is?"

"What?"

He grinned. "I wager you can't beat me back to the palace wearing that thing." Blowing her a kiss, he zipped off.

La Muerte gaped, then laughed and picked up her skirts. "Oh, you're on, boy!"

He smirked as he slowed his gliding walk, letting her overtake him before dashing ahead once again. Their eyes were on each other, not noticing the dark shape that darted after them until it was too late.

They were nearly to the palace gates when it happened. La Muerte slowed her gait, then stopped. "Do you see that?"

"See what?"

She pointed off into the distance. "I think it's following us."

Xibalba looked to where she was pointing and saw a dark, crouching shape slightly hidden behind a rock. His eyes squinted to see it better, then widened. "Is that…?"

The shape rocketed forward, knocking him off his feet and pinning him to the ground. Mictlan snarled in his face as he pointed the Cazadora de Dios at it. "You have something of mine, traitor," he hissed, and drove the knife into Xibalba's shoulder.

The younger god screamed in pain as his vision went dark and blurry. He was vaguely aware of Mictlan putting the knife against his throat, then of a quickly moving shape slamming into his brother and sending him flying.

"Don't you dare!" she shrieked, grasping Mictlan by the neck. "I'll take your head off if I have to..!"

Hissing, Mictlan slashed a clawed hand across her face.

"No!" Xibalba shouted. He tried to crawl forward, desperately reaching out a hand, before the darkness overtook him.

He wasn't sure when he woke up. He was only aware of being in his bed and of seeing his father standing over him flanked by worried faces.

"Are you alright, son?"

"La Muerte…where's La Muerte…?"

"Out of my way!" She forced herself through the crowd, rushing to his side and taking his hand. Her hair had come undone, her wedding dress was ripped and a set of ragged gashes ran across her cheek. "I'm fine, Balby," she said, seeing him stare at them. "They'll heal."

"Is Mictlan dead?"

She scowled. "I'm not that lucky."

"Then where is he?"

"Beneath the palace," Kisin said. "Far beneath it."

"…Where you keep the wicked souls." He had only visited the pitch-black pit once, seen the monsters scream and snarl as they rattled their unbreakable chains, and wished to forget the sight of it. "You really sent him down there?"

"I don't want you speaking of him again, Xibalba. And that goes for the rest of you!" he added, turning to the other gods present. "My son plotted against our brethren and threatened our very existence. From this day on, it shall be forbidden to speak his name."

"There has to be another way - "

"You may be ruler here, but in this matter, you are my child. My word shall be your law. Do you understand?"

"…Yes, Dad."

* * *

"You wanted to bring him _back?"_ Manolo asked incredulously. "After what he did?"

Xibalba didn't answer for a moment. "Imagine Joaquin turned on you one day," he finally said. "That he tried to kill you and Maria. You never saw him again after that. You never got to ask him why he did it, if you could have helped him somehow. They denied you your closure."

The young man's expression softened. "I'm sorry."

"I said no pitying me."

"Your father must have felt terrible about it, too."

"You can never tell _what_ that old man is thinking."

"So what happened to him after all that?"

"He stayed in the castle for a few centuries. Complained about the way I ran thing no matter what I tried. I finally told him to leave if he didn't like it." Xibalba looked at the foyer door. "So he did. Just up and vanished, and I didn't see him again until you met him." His face hardened once again. "If he wanted to stay in charge, he should have just kept the throne."

"He thought it would be best for you to have it."

Xibalba stared down at Manolo, furrowing his brows. "I'd think twice before making presumptions where gods are concerned, boy."

"I'm not presuming anything. Fathers do what they think is best for their children, that's all."

"Oh, because you would know?"

"As a matter of fact, I would." Standing up, Manolo looked Xibalba right in his eyes. "Perhaps you could ask him about it sometime."

"I doubt it." Rolling his eyes, Xibalba swept out of the room. "Arrogant, intrusive little…!"

And yet, even as he stormed off, he felt as though a weight had been lifted from his chest.

Manolo simply smiled to himself as he watched the god leave, then began wandering back towards his room. _He gets it. Not that he'd ever admit it._  
  
The door to Quetzalcoatl's pit might be unlocked tomorrow. They could sneak away, tell him all that had happened and put an end to this business.

_Maybe things are finally getting better._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned of potentially triggering violence in the second half of this chapter.

The cavern stank of death. Blood, half-chewed rotting flesh, the cold sweat from the final moments of previous visitors. Slashes of moonlight slipped through the cracks in the ceiling and cast beams across the floor like claw marks. From the shadows came low growls, glowing eyes and the click of claws on stone.

Mictlan breathed in the smell and took in the sights, a serene smile spreading across his face. Coming here never failed to lift his spirits,and the day's proceedings had left him with the need to feel powerful once again. That and he had some explaining to do.

"Pax?" he called out as he stopped in the center of the room, his torch offering a small, flickering circle of protection."Let me borrow your ears for a moment, my friend."

Something growled behind him, almost next to his head. "You are a fool to come here after what you have done."

Mictlan turned and stared into the creature's slitted pupils. "You mean freeing you from your torment in that pit? Perhaps. It depends on whether or not you can help me."

The jaguar reared up on his hind legs,his front paws clenching into fists. Powerful muscles rippled beneath his spotted hide, covered in scars old and fresh. He hissed at the god, showing off rows of large, razor-sharp teeth."You lied to us, Mictlan."

"Enlighten me."

"My warriors were told they would feast on the flesh of humans tonight," Pax continued, circling him. "And yet you bring nothing."

More jaguars crept from the cavern corners, prowling on all fours at the edges of the light cast by Mictlan's was hard to tell whether the growls came from their mouths or their stomachs.

"There was a change of plan," Mictlan said. "Most unfortunate." He whirled around and stared daggers at a jaguar who was beginning to leap towards him, making the animal shrink back towards the darkness.

"Since when have you allowed the unforeseen to block your path?" Pax sneered.

"Not blocked. Only slowed for a day." Mictlan waved a hand to shoo off the other jaguars, then approached their leader. "We used the first arrowhead tonight," he whispered. "All is in place for the next step, but I need your and your men. Do not fail me tomorrow, and you shall feast on all the humans you desire."

Pax growled again, but now it was more of a contemplative rumbling. "What would you have us do, my lord?"

"The humans are to undertake the third trial in the morning. You are to take them by surprise. Kill one, or perhaps two. It doesn't matter which. But at least one _must_ be left alive, do you understand?"

"The orders, yes. But not the reason."

"Grief, my friend," Mictlan said, "can do terrible things to one's mind. Even a human mind."

The jaguar seemed no closer to an understanding than he had before, but he nodded and bowed nonetheless. "It will be done, my lord."

"It had _better_ be."Mictlan turned and walked away, taking the circle of light with grinned and laughed as he imagined his plan coming to life before his eyes. The saviors of humanity shall be the ones to destroy it. Irony is indeed a gift."

* * *

On the outskirts of Aztlan, the skyline of block-like pyramids was broken by a jagged dome. Sharp edges jutted out from the sea of overgrown plant life that covered the dark gray rock. A pair of slanted stalagmites framed the thick oval door that was nearly invisible against the wall. The roof was partially caved inward, giving the whole structure an air of being about to collapse.

Joaquin shuddered at the sight of it. "I don't like this, guys."

"Well, too bad!" Xibalba snapped, more testy than usual. "Sorry," he said immediately afterwards, taking a deep breath. "Nothing to do with you." Quetzalcoatl's door had still been locked when he tried it again that morning, and no amount of knocking or shouting had gotten it to budge.

Maria raised an eyebrow. "Who are you and what have you done with Xibalba?"

A few feet away, Tezcatlipoca was scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the familiar empty eye sockets. _He should be finished by now._

A flash of movement caught his eye. Mictlan was slipping through the crowd, evading the watchful eyes of La Muerte and Itzamna. He stopped towards the back, next to Tlaloc, and nodded at the king when he noticed him. _All is ready._

Tezcatlipoca nodded back, then cleared his throat. "For their third trial, Xibalba and his mortals shall venture into the maze contained herein. If they find their way to the other side, they shall have succeeded. The trial now begins." He snapped his fingers. Rather than swing open, the door slid downwards to admit the group.

Maria took her friends' hands. "You ready for this?"

Joaquin shrugged, while Manolo stared at the doorway with the calmest expression he'd worn since arriving in Aztlan. _We made through all their tricks so far, we can make it through this one. And then we'll finally settle things._

"I think so."

They crossed the threshold together, with Xibalba following, and the door rose shut behind them.

* * *

It was like being inside and outside at the same time. Streams of sunlight poured down from large holes in the roof. The air was filled with a multitude of unfamiliar bird calls and insect buzzes. On either side of the group rose thick stone walls covered in moss and vines. They formed a narrow corridor, making forward the only way to go.

"Do you know anything about this one?" Manolo asked Xibalba as they made their way into the maze.

"This one wasn't here last time I visited." Xibalba thought he saw something move along the top of one of the walls, but it was gone when he turned to look.

Joaquin noticed it as well. "So what do you think they're sending after us this time?"

"Until we find out," Maria said, "we stick together."

They walked on, and the pairs of malicious glowing eyes followed them.

The pale yellow light from above turned golden as the day wore on. The paths grew narrower, wrapped around each other, split off in several directions, and the group found itself doubling back more often than going forward. Each turn seemed only to reveal yet another dead end. The deeper they went, the thicker the plant life grew. Before long, the group was having to claw its way through them to take even a few steps.

Joaquin slumped against the wall and groaned. "What do you bet that we're, like, still just a few feet from the start of this thing?"

"I'll take you up on that," Xibalba muttered, joining him.

Manolo tried to lean on the wall and instead slipped into the grasping vines. As he pulled himself free, his eyes followed the thick green veins up to the top of the wall. "I've got an idea." Grabbing onto the wall by its foliage, he pulled himself off the ground and began to climb.

"What are you doing?" Maria asked.

"Trying to get a better view. Then we can walk across the top to the exit!"

"Won't they get suspicious?"

"We've been in here for hours. I think we can get away with it by now. I'll be careful, Maria," he added, seeing the worried look on her face. _"Lo prometo."_

"Make it quick, alright?"

He nodded, then scaled the rest of the wall and climbed on top of it, putting out his arms for balance.

"What do you see?" Joaquin asked.

"Not much, but I think we're about halfway through. There's this walled-off part on the other side of us. Like a pit."

Maria's eyes widened as he knelt down and looked over the edge. "Get away from there!"

"Just a minute. That's strange…"

Xibalba looked up. "What is?"

"I think something's down there. It's moving." He began to back away as a long dark, shape came clambering up the side of the pit towards him.

If Xibalba's face could turn pale, it would have at that moment. "Manolo, listen to me closely. You need to get away from that thing right now - "

"AAAAHHHH!" Manolo jumped backwards as a giant paw shot up from the pit to swipe at him with outstretched claws. He tumbled off the ledge, landing in Maria's arms.

The whole group looked up to see a giant, scarred and angry jaguar looking down at them from the top of the wall. Saliva dripped from its open jaws as it hissed at them, then reared its head and roared.

_"Run!"_ Xibalba yelled.

More jaguars emerged from the pit. Soon there were dozens, and they all dashed off after their fleeing skimmed the tops of the walls, racing ahead of the group and leaping down into the maze. The four were forced forwards and backwards, down one path and then another, tripping over plants and screaming as the swiping claws missed them by inches.

Pax walked behind the rest of his pack, slower than the others. His eyes focused on the humans and saw Manolo falling behind the others, shoving Maria ahead of him as he stumbled. Roaring, he pointed a claw at the human. "That one!"

Maria, Joaquin and Xibalba reached a fork in the path and took off down one side. Manolo scrambled to his feet and tried to follow them, then screamed as a jaguar leapt in front of him. He whirled around and found himself staring into another snarling face. They were all converging on him now, forcing him back into a dead end.

Maria and Joaquin stopped and turned around just in time to see him forced out of sight. _"Manolo!"_

"It's too late!" Xibalba said. "Leave him or…"

Joaquin ran off after his friend, and Maria silenced the god with a swift punch to the face.

Frightened tears welled in Manolo's eyes as he backed into the wall. Stone fenced him in on either side, and the jaguars were coming at him from above and in front. He sank to the ground, his screams lodging in his throat.

The pack parted, and Pax approached the defenseless human. He leaned forward and breathed in Manolo's face, making the young man flinch under the warm, moist, putrid air.

"You are frightened, human," he growled. "Fright makes the best meat." Unsheathing his claws, he raised a paw to slash it across Manolo's chest.

_"Hey!"_ A rock sailed over the pack from behind and struck Pax in the back of the head. The whole pack turned around, snarling. Behind them stood Joaquin with another rock in his hand and a glare on his face. "You guys want a real fight? Come on, then!"

"Joaquin, don't!" But his friend was already back into the maze, hollering his own name as the jaguars gave chase.

Manolo staggered to his feet and ran after them, only for a pair of hands to grab his arms and drag him down the opposite path. "We have to get out of here!" Maria shouted in his ear.

"No! I'm not leaving without him!"

"Manolo, _please,_ they'll kill you too!"

They heard a cry of pain come from somewhere deep within the maze, and Manolo struggled even harder to break free. _"Joaquin!"_

A shadow fell over them. "I found the way out," Xibalba said. "Quickly, before they come back."

"But…"

"I'm not telling you twice, boy!" He picked them both up and ran down the final corridor, struggling to keep Manolo with him the whole way. The door opened as he stumbled back outside, collapsing and loosening his grip on the two humans.

Manolo immediately broke free and ran back towards the door. "My friend's still in there! We have to help him!"

But Tezcatlipoca was already sealing the maze, and the young man collided with cold, unfeeling stone.

"No!" he shouted, pounding on the door until his fists were bruised and bleeding. "W-We have to get Joaquin out…!"

"He's already dead if he's lucky, Manolo," Xibalba said, his voice flat and lifeless. "Don't throw his sacrifice away."

One could have heard a pin drop in the crowd. La Muerte covered her mouth and averted her eyes to keep the tears from showing. Ixa gasped and disappeared into the water. Mictlan, Tlaloc and Tohil looked bored.

The silence seemed to drain the fight out of Manolo, and his face slowly fell. _"Hermano,"_ he said in a broken whisper as he sank to the ground, leaning against the door and shaking uncontrollably. Maria sat beside him, and her tears mingled with his as they wept.

Joaquin's throat was burning too hard for him to scream any longer. He simply gaped in pain as Pax ripped his chest open again and again, his skin turning to an ugly red blur. One jaguar grabbed his arm while another grabbed his leg, and they pulled until the limbs were nearly ripped from their sockets. The sight and scent and taste of blood was overwhelming, and his vision turned spotty as his breathing turned ragged.

_Take care of him, Maria,_ he thought with his last bit of strength. _I love you guys…_

* * *

Sasha was sobbing into Jane's lap, and Sanjay's face was contorted with fear and disgust. "I think I'm gonna be sick…"

"B-But Joaquin can't die like that!" the goth boy shouted. "He's Joaquin! He needs to have an awesome death. He needs to be tied to an alligator that's tied to a rocket that's flying into a volcano! Or something…!"

"Refresh my memory," Xibalba said. "When exactly did I say that he died?"

* * *

Through his fading vision, he could see something slam into the jaguars that made them yowl and flee, shaking droplets off their fur. A blurry blue shape floated before his eyes, and a cool hand stroked his cheek.

"Rest, Joaquin," a gentle voice said. "You shall soon be safe. I promise you that."


	14. Chapter 14

_Am I dead? I've got to be dead. But why is it so boring, then? This isn't what you said being dead was like, Manny. I thought it was supposed to be colorful and stuff, and there was this weird guy on a horse…_

"Don't move."

Groaning, Joaquin cracked open his eyelid. His head was lying on its side, and in the dim light of wherever he was, he could make out the form of his distinctly non-skeletal arm. _If I'm alive, then where am I?_

"This might sting a little bit. My apologies."

"Ixa? W-What are you doing…?"

He screamed and convulsed as a weight pressed down on his chest, bringing with it a searing pain that shot through his body.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Ixa removed whatever she had placed on him, and the burning began to subside, if only slightly. "I do not wish to cause you more pain, but you must be treated before the wounds fester."

Joaquin tried to take a deep breath, winced at the twinges in his chest and settled for a quick gasp. "W-Where am I?"

"In a better place than where you might be."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Death shall be no solace for you as long as Mictlan lives. Not for anyone."

With a vivid flash, it all came back to him. The maze, the jaguars, Manolo and Maria fleeing as he led the creatures off. "Oh, man, are they okay? I've gotta see them!" He tried to sit up, then collapsed back down with another cry.

Ixa touched his shoulder. "They are well in body, at least for now. You _must_ rest, Joaquin. You shall be no use to them as you are now."

Joaquin was well and truly awake now, and his eyes began to drift around the room. They were on the edge of a small lake inside a dark cavern, and the water cast gently shifting light across the walls and ceiling. His shirt was gone, not that there had been much of it left anyway. He was lying on a bed of moss, and more piles of it were spread on top of him. "I thought this stuff wasn't supposed to hurt," he groaned.

"Their claws cut deep. Almost too deep." Ixa was sitting beside him, watching his every move intently. She lifted up a piece of the moss, showing him the flayed flesh beneath. It was slowly knitting itself back together, forming new layers of skin. "I thought you were gone for a few minutes."

"Ah, yes, you should have heard her shrieking! She would have wept if she could."

"Xochi!" Ixa hissed, her head twisting around to glare at the other woman.

The goddess was perched on a ledge a few feet away, humming to herself as she sewed a new shirt for Joaquin. "What? It's the truth."

"He doesn't need to _know_ that…"

Shakily reaching out, Joaquin took her by the hand. "Ixa, why did you save me?"

She looked away and probably would have blushed were she made of flesh and blood. "I could not allow Mictlan's treachery to claim an innocent life."

"A _noble_ life, she called you," Xochi added. "I had never seen her in such distress than when she learned of what you did. She chased away the whole pack by herself and begged me to help her hide you - "

_"That's enough!"_ Flicking her hand up, Ixa sent a stream of water shooting at the goddess which she easily leaned to avoid.

_Subject-changing time._ "So, how do you Mictlan is behind this?"

"He and the king did not mourn your perceived passing. Nor did Tohil and my father."

"Wait. They think I'm dead?"

"The whole city does."

"Even my friends…?"

"I told you they were well in body. Their spirits are a different matter."

"Ixa, you have to take me back up there. I need to see them."

"Even if you were in any state to move, it would not be wise," she answered.

"Why not?"

"Mictlan is planning something. I don't know what, but I believe it requires your death."

"So let's mess it up, then!"

She shook her head. "Returning to Aztlan unannounced would bring Mictlan's wrath on all three of you."

Joaquin shuddered, imagining Manolo and Maria in the grasp of the monstrous god. "Okay. But can you at least tell them I'm alive, please? They don't need anything else to worry about." _No telling what this is doing to Manny._

"I'll do the best I can," Ixa said. "Now rest, Joaquin. You shall heal faster if you sleep."

"But I'm not tired," he protested even as his eyes began to drift shut once again.

"You have fought well today. Consider this your reward."

"Hey, Ixa?" he mumbled, his eyes already closed.

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

The water spirit smiled in spite of herself. "You're welcome." She stayed by the shoreline, watching the man until his breathing was soft and steady.

"A daughter of Tlaloc growing fond of a human," Xochi mused. "It's so poetic!"

"I am _not_ growing fond of him."

"I can see it without looking within you, child. You stole him away right under your father's nose."

"Because he did not deserve to die so terribly!"

"If you insist."

With a huff, Ixa began to swim away. "Please keep an eye on him until I can return, Xochi. Make sure he is healing properly."

The goddess gave Joaquin a quick glance and smiled. "He is growing fond of you as well, child."

Ixa stopped. "What?"

"He is aware of it but does not yet realize what it is. It confounds him, but it does not frighten him." She returned to her work. "Perhaps time shall help him understand."

"…Understand what a fool he would be, I hope." With a splash, Ixa disappeared into the lake.

Xochi shook her head. "You are just as great a fool as he."

* * *

"Stop that! We can't exactly get the janitor in here, you know."

The boys were all doubled over, trying to puke up their breakfast. "That was so _gross!"_ Goth Boy whined. "You didn't say this story was gonna be gross!"

"I think it's cute!" Jane said, curling up next to Sasha at the hem of Xibalba's robe. "Tell us more."

"I'm afraid that's the last happy part of this story for now," the god answered. "Enjoy it while you can."

The girls' faces fell. "What do you mean? What happens next?"

"Joaquin might have been safe, but Manolo and Maria didn't know that. That night, they mourned his death more than anyone else in Aztlan. Something had changed within Manolo when that door had closed. All the hope in his soul seemed to have gone. For in his mind, someone he held dear lay dead because of his own mistake once again."

* * *

"…Manolo?" Maria's voice was deafening when it finally broke the silence in the bedchamber. "Manolo, say something," she continued, despite sounding almost afraid of the answer she might get. "Anything."

Xibalba stood leaning against the wall, trying to look everywhere but at the spot was Manolo was sitting. When he finally did, he found his eyes glued to the sight. _You'd think he was dead, too._

It was almost true, and the god knew it.

Since being dragged out of the maze, Manolo had hardly said a word. Only a few minutes before had he finally stopped sobbing. Now he was slumped and motionless in a corner, his eyes staring dully ahead at seemingly nothing. _It was supposed to be me,_ he thought. _It should have been._

"Manolo, _please."_ Maria got off the bed and sank down beside him. "Please don't shut me out."

He wouldn't answer, or even look at her.

Too weary and afraid to be angry with her husband, Maria rested her head on his shoulder and let the tears drip silently down her face.

Clenching his fists, Xibalba turned away and headed for the door. _It's time to end this._

* * *

Of course the wall panel slid open when he tapped it. Why wouldn't it? Another cruel joke to add to the pile.

Xibalba grew more tense as he stormed down the spiraling staircase, and by the time he reached the door at the bottom, he was fuming. "We need to talk!" he shouted, flinging the doors open. "You and me. No more of these damned trials."

The room was empty, Quetzalcoatl's pit a black void. Walking to it, Xibalba leaned over the edge. "Mictlan's dangerous!" he shouted into the abyss. "I have proof! Just come up here and listen to me!"

No answer.

"Can't you hear me?" He turned his head and listened. Normally the walls of the pit hummed with the plumed serpent's steady breathing, but tonight they were eerily silent.

"…Hello?" A chill began to creep over Xibalba. "I need your help! Something terrible has happened!"

"Indeed it has."

Two hands grabbed Xibalba's arms and bound them behind his back, while another pair of hands forced a rag into his mouth. In the dim light, he could see Tlaloc and Mictlan smirking at him, and a third assailant was sending cold breaths down his neck.

"It would seem, Xibalba," Tezcatlipoca hissed smugly in his ear, "that you have killed my brother."


	15. Chapter 15

The next dawn was grey and misty, and the cold seeped through the walls of the bedchamber. Maria shuddered out of her fitful sleep with a chill in her bones and not a soul to help her get rid of it, or so it seemed to her. Xibalba was gone completely, and her husband was still gone in soul.

Manolo had returned to the same spot he had curled up in the night before, as if that would somehow bring Joaquin back. His eyes were red and sunken, and Maria was certain he hadn't slept at stared down at his hands, only moving when he blinked.

"You need to rest, _mi amor,"_ Maria told him,trying to convince herself that he could. The morning was creeping by, judging by the faint snatches of bustle and chatter coming from somewhere far below them, and the guards had not yet come for them as they had each day before. "I'll look for a way outside. Then we get out of here and find La Muerte."

She looked to him, hoping for a word of agreement or a eyes flickered in her direction only for a moment, then back to his hands.

"Manolo, I _need_ your help with this."Maria knelt beside him, placing both hands on his arm. "We've got to stick together now."

He wouldn't even look at her this time.

"…He was my friend, too, you know. He would have wanted us to keep going." Placing a hand on his jaw, she tried turning him to face his eyes downcast, he pulled away from her touch and shuffled closer to the wall.

She stared at him in disbelief for a moment, blinking back the fresh tears that were springing to her eyes. Then she stood and forced her face into a cold glare. _"Fine,"_ she said, putting as much venom as she could into the single word.

Manolo flinched and coiled tighter into himself, squeezing his eyes shut. Maria thought she saw a few tears slide down his cheeks, or perhaps it was her own blurry vision playing tricks on her. _It doesn't matter._ Sitting back down on the bed, she turned her back on him and stared at the wall.

The silence hung between them, cloying the air and buzzing in her wanted to scream at him, but her voice lodged in her throat. So her mind screamed at itself for giving up so easily,for not forcing him to speak to her. _Forcing Manolo to do something. Ha._

The one time she turned to look back at him, he hadn't moved an inch. Her heart ached at the sight, ignoring the scolding it received from her head. _I need to say something. It doesn't have to be important. Just **something.**_

_What's the use if he won't answer you?_

The door slammed open, revealing a pair of stone guards. "Come, mortals. The fourth trial awaits you."

* * *

There were no crowds following them on their journey to the next arena, only empty streets and a silent trip down the placid canal. Maria wondered if this was what being led to one's own execution was like. _I suppose I'll find out soon enough._

"…Where's Xibalba?"

Maria nearly jumped at the sound of Manolo's voice. He was sitting up straighter now, looking around in confusion and concern. "He's supposed to be here." The guards continued to look ahead, as though he'd said nothing at all.

"Maybe he's trying to find us some help," Maria hesitantly offered. _Or maybe he's abandoned us._ She knew which one she believed. Slipping her hand underneath Manolo's, she wished. _Please take it. Just for a second._

His fingers began to tighten around hers, then loosened once more. "We've been down this way before," he said. "Yesterday."

Maria's stomach lurched as she looked around and realized that she recognized the buildings. _They wouldn't be taking us back here. Would they?_

Then they turned a corner, and the sickening shape of the jagged dome came back into view.

"What's this about?" Maria demanded while Manolo began to tremble. "Why are they sending us back here?"

The boat slid to a stop in front of the stairs leading to the door, which sat two humans were lifted to their feet and dragged up the steps, struggling against their captors the whole way. The guards took no notice, flinging them through the doorway and into an inky darkness. Maria sat up just in time to see the door rise, sealing them in.

She furiously waved a hand in front of her face, but it was no use. It was as though she'd gone tried to stand, craning her neck up to see if any light was coming from the ceiling. They had plugged up all the holes from before, and plugged them well. She thought she saw a few pinpoints of something glowing here and there, but that was all.

"I think there's some flint down here," she heard Manolo was shuffling around, picking things off the ground. Two rocks scraped against one another, and a few stray sparks flew from the contact. More appeared as he rubbed them together more insistently, and they grew into a small flame as they landed on a thin, broken piece of wood. Picking up the makeshift torch, Manolo held it aloft."Explains why it took them so long to come for us…"

In the dim light, they could see that the floor was strewn with , wood, dead vines and other plants. Towards the center of the room, large chunks of the maze walls lay scattered, leaning on each other to form crude shelters and casting sharp shadows across the cavern walls. The only sound to be heard was their own breathing.

"Stay away from the center," Maria said, taking a few steps forward."We don't know if they've done anything to that pit or not."

Manolo tensed up at the word, his grip on the torch turning shaky.

Maria grabbed his hand to steady it."That's what they want you to do. It's why we're in here. We just need to focus on this until we can…are you even listening to me?"

He was looking up at the ceiling - specifically, the two glowing pinpoints above their heads. "Those aren't lights."

"What do you mean?"

Manolo raised the torch, casting its light on what lay above.

Hanging from the ceiling was a long, dark creature with a pair of beady eyes and a small, crushed face. It let out a high-pitched shriek as it spread its thin, leathery wings and woke the rest of its brethren.

The two humans screamed and ran for cover as the giant bats took flight, pursuing them while filling the air with shrieks and flaps. They skidded between two chunks of wall, nearly losing the torch in the process, and crouched down.

"W-What do we do?" Manolo asked, gripping the sputtering light.

 _You mean what **can** we do,_ Maria thought. "I think we need to get across the room. Look for the shelters." Peering out, she caught sight of one of the large shapes a few yards away. "Come on, it's a straight run there."

"Now?"

"When would _you_ go?" Grabbing his hand, Maria dragged him back into the open and towards the next shelter. The bats spied them and began to swoop down in a dark mass, still shrieking.

They were halfway across when Manolo suddenly stopped. He slowly turned around, staring at the oncoming bats with wide eyes. "No…w-what did they _do_ to you…?"

"Whatever you're thinking, stop it!" Maria pulled him into the shelter, but not before he nearly hurled the torch at the bats. They scattered and regrouped further up, waiting for another chance to grab the humans.

"What is _wrong_ with you, Manolo?" Maria snapped, snatching the torch from his hands.

"I-I thought I heard…"

"It doesn't matter what you think you heard. Unless you'd mind telling me what's going on."

"I'm _fine."_

"You nearly got yourself killed a second ago! You'll get us both killed if you keep this up!"

"You wouldn't understand - "

 _"What_ wouldn't I understand? _Answer me!"_

His gaze trailed to the darkness outside as the bats screamed again. "Joaquin…?"

Maria listened. The shrieks were still recognizably inhuman to her ears. But they were morphing, trying to imitate the sound of a human in pain, and Manolo only knew what he wanted to hear. "Manolo, it's a trick - "

She was too late. He had darted out of their hiding place and into the creatures' trap. "Joaquin!"

With a mocking shriek, one of the bats flew down and snatched him up in its claws. He screamed as it carried upwards, flying right through the cavern ceiling with a loud crash.

 _"Manolo!"_ Dropping the torch, Maria instinctively chased after him. The moment she stepped into the open, a pair of claws clamped around her body and pinned her arms to her sides. The ground vanished from beneath her feet, leaving her kicking helplessly as the bat flew up through the ceiling and into the sky.

Her stomach churned at the sight of the buildings below. The bat spread its wings and glided over them, heading back towards the palace. Everyone in Aztlan seemed to be gathering around its steps, their voices melting into an angry roar. Manolo was already in their midst, cowering under the weight of their glares. _What's happened?_

The bat hovered just above the scene and dropped Maria onto the stones, and a wave of shouts immediately overwhelmed her. "Justice! Kill them at once! No, kill them slowly! Make them suffer!"

 _"Silence!"_ Tezcatlipoca stood at the top of the steps, with Mictlan and Tlaloc on either side of him. "I shall decide what is to be done with them."

"What are you doing to us now?" Maria snarled, getting to her feet. "I want to talk to your brother."

"It would seem that you have failed the fourth trial," he answered, almost with a lilt. "I shall judge you for what you have done. Besides, my brother cannot. You two would know."

"We don't know anything," Manolo said as he dropped to his knees.

Tezcatlipoca held up a hand. In it was a small arrowhead carved from obsidian. "You recognize this, do you not?"

"We've never seen it before."

"Lies!" Tlaloc shouted. "Quetzalcoatl lies dead because of it, and because of you!"

The blood drained from the humans' faces. "What?"

"Feigning ignorance shall do you no good," Mictlan said. "You sought vengeance for your slain friend, Manolo, and so you slew one of ours."

"That's a lie and you know it!" La Muerte was pushing a path through the crowd, trying to break through the line of guards holding the crowd back. "You killed him yourselves!"

"If you confess to your crime, humans," Tezcatlipoca continued, "we shall discuss your punishment further."

Manolo hesitated before shaking his head. "I didn't kill him."

"Then your punishment has been decided."

Tezcatlipoca snapped his fingers. The guards dragged Manolo to his feet and up the steps. Maria tried to follow him and was forced back. "Let him go, he hasn't done anything! _Manolo!"_

Manolo was placed in front of Tezcatlipoca, who was turning the arrowhead around in his hand. The god stared coldly at him, the hints of a smirk playing on his lips. "A life for a life."

Drawing back his hand, he drove the arrowhead into Manolo's chest.

The young man cried out, and Maria cried out with him. Blood spread across his shirt as he staggered forward, reaching out to her with pleading eyes. "Maria…I'm…"

Then he closed his eyes, fell to the ground and drifted away with his wife's screams echoing in his ears.


	16. Chapter 16

The silence which covered the room lasted so long that Xibalba thought it was safe for him to continue. "And so it was that - "

_"You gotta be **kidding** us!"_ Goth Boy shouted. Sasha burst into tears and fled into a corner with Jane chasing after her, while Joao passed out and had to be revived by Sanjay.

"I don't kid unless it's funny."

"Why'd he have to die _again?_ And now Maria's got to deal with these guys all by herself! AAAHHH!"

"You sure you don't need a break or something?"

"Oh, no! You better tell us what happens next, mister!" He pulled his friends back around him and sat at Xibalba's feet, his angered expression turning to fear. "Is she gonna be okay…?"

"I didn't know you were the empathetic type."

"She doesn't deserve any of this! None of you guys do!"

"Quite right," Xibalba continued. "And four of the gods in Aztlan thought so, too. Especially as they watched Maria and La Muerte be shut away deep within the palace to await whatever punishment Tezcatlipoca was planning for those who suspected the truth."

* * *

"At least they put us in an actual dungeon this time. Don't you just hate the passive-aggressive approach?"

"What I hate is that those three are still alive!" With a scream, La Muerte flung herself at the windowless walls yet again. Instead of passing through the bricks, she bounced off them and collapsed on the floor amidst an angry flurry of marigold petals.

Xibalba winced. "It's no use trying to teleport. They've sealed us in."

"I'm to rip his scales off one by one…and _feed_ them to him…"

"You know what sounds really great right now? Not talking. I think I'll do that for a while." Xibalba folded his hands in his lap, suddenly becoming very interested in playing with his fingers. He wasn't sure which sight was more unpleasant to behold: his enraged wife, or the young woman beside him.

Maria sat with her arms wrapped around her knees and her face pressed into them, her shoulders silently heaving with the tears she wished she could cry. She had no more to shed, it seemed - too much pain in too short a time. When she finally raised her head, the sparks of hope and defiance were gone from her eyes. "I didn't get to say goodbye," she said, her voice hoarse. "I was yelling at him before it happened." The words she had thought she could leave unspoken were now lodged in her throat, choking her. _Maybe they'll kill me, too._

La Muerte crumpled to the floor once more, her anger briefly overtaken by sorrow. She closed her eyes for a moment and furrowed her brows, concentrating on something. "I can't sense him in my realm, Maria," she said. "I don't know where he is."

Xibalba had always thought he was too cold for a chill to run down his spine, but there it was. _If Mictlan showed him how he made that knife…_

No. His brother was too jealous for that, too fearful. At least, he could only hope so.

"I…I didn't mean to cause all this," he told Maria. "When I sent him back."

"You never really did." She was sitting up straighter now, staring at something that existed only in her mind. "He wasn't the same after that day. He wasn't sleeping. He had nightmares when he did. Sometimes he'd see something the rest of us didn't and just stop. I never said anything. Never…"

"The way things are going right now," he answered, "maybe you'll get to soon enough."

"Don't tell her that!" La Muerte said.

"I might as well start trying out Dad's job for once. There isn't much else I can do."

"Maybe there's still time. Maybe they haven't decided what to do with us yet."

There were footsteps on the other side of the door, followed by the clinking of metal and hushed voices. "They're dangerous! Work quickly!"

"Huh. Quicker than I thought."

"Alright, then," La Muerte muttered, straightening her hat, "let's show them how dangerous we are. Who's with me?"

Xibalba nodded halfheartedly. Maria closed her eyes and waited.

The handle of the door began to rattle, then suddenly stopped. "What are you four doing…AAAGGGHHH!"

The guards' shouts of confusion turned to shrieks of pain and gurgles. A thin pool of wax began to seep under the door, which burst open to reveal a familiar, grinning face. _"Man,_ they oughta rethink their floor plan for this place. Hey, y'all!"

La Muerte and Xibalba gaped. "Candle Maker?"

"Don't give me all the credit." He slid aside to reveal Itzamna, Xochi and Ehecatl tying up the wax-covered guards. "They're the ones you should thank."

"Don't you realize how much trouble you'll be in if the others find this?" Xibalba said.

"It is worth the risk," Itzamna answered. "Quetzalcoatl's death was not the fault of your mortals, and Manolo is a good man."

"Was," Maria said, the word falling bitterly from her lips.

" _Señora_ ," Ehecatl said, flying to her side _,_ "your husband still lives."

She stiffened and slowly lifted her head, anger on her face masking hesitant hope as she avoided looking at him. "That's impossible," she said. "I saw them kill him."

The eagle shook his head. "I heard Tezcatlipoca talking as the guards carried his body away. 'You are not to remove that arrowhead under any circumstances!' he told them."

La Muerte's head shot up as her eyes widened in realization. "I thought that enchantment was only a legend."

"It is indeed an ancient spell."

"What is?" Maria demanded.

"I believe you mortals have a tale concerning it," Xochi said. "Something about a princess and a spindle."

"…Are you saying he's _asleep?"_

_"Wenel Tumen Kimen,"_ said Itzamna. "Sleep as dead. Until the arrowhead is pulled from his flesh, he shall be suspended in time and never awaken."

"Where is he now?" Xibalba asked.

"Upstairs, in a coffin of your brother's design. He said so great a trophy should be observable…"

"Take me to him." Maria was getting to her feet, and a fire was flickering in her eyes.

"I fear it might be too dangerous for you - "

_"Take me to him."_

* * *

The halls of the palace stood quiet, dark and empty. Perfect for their purposes.

Ehecatl flew ahead of the group, leading them down a particularly wide corridor. "He's down here. This way, just around the next turn."

"Isn't this near the meeting hall?" La Muerte asked.

"They wanted to keep him close."

Xibalba raised a hand as they passed a set of tall double doors. "Everyone be quiet. They're probably inside."

Xochi froze and gasped as they went by. "Listen to that!"

"What did I just say?"

The goddess grabbed him by his beard and dragged him to the keyhole. "No, really! They're talking!"

"So?"

"…And why would you suggest such a drastic measure, Lord Mictlan…?"

_**Lord** Mictlan?_ Pressing his eye to the keyhole, Xibalba found a pair of black wings covering his vision. _Oh, no._

"It is an unfortunate but necessary measure," he was saying. "They have shown today that they have grown too powerful to be subservient to us. If we are to survive, we must begin anew."

"Again?" a weary voice added, his father's.

"Not the whole world, Father. Simply the humans. We shall erase them from both life and afterlife, so that none shall remain to remember these dark times."

"I shall proudly assist you in this endeavor!" That was Tlaloc. "Which of you shall join us?"

"Quetzalcoatl must be avenged," said Tohil, a hint of genuine sorrow in his tone. "I shall offer you my assistance."

"Do you approve of this plan, my king?"

"Without question. It must be done."

"What's going on in there?" Maria snapped impatiently, as well as a little too loudly.

There was silence in the meeting hall for a moment, then the sound of a chair being pushed back. "Excuse me," Kisin mumbled.

"Go! _Go!"_ Xibalba hissed, shooing the rest of the group down the hall. They rounded a corner and disappeared from view, the sound of their hurried footsteps vanishing with them. He breathed a sigh of relief and stayed where he was, turning the overheard words over in his mind. _We need proof that they're lying -  
_

"Haven't you ruined these mortals' lives enough?"

_And I need to make something **very** clear._ He was rather glad Manolo was out of the picture at the moment. Otherwise he'd never hear the end of this.

"You are _absolutely_ right, Dad," he said, turning to face Kisin. "Ever since I met these guys, I have done nothing but ruin their lives. I'd say I've done a pretty good job of it, two of them being dead and all. Or is it still just one? I suppose you would know."

"What are you trying to do, Xibalba?"

"Something for someone else, for once." His expression softened as he began to back away from his father. "You were only trying to do what was best for me. I know that now. Well, I'm trying to what's best for everyone. I started this, and I'm going to help finish it. And you and Mictlan and all your little friends are _not_ going to stop me."

With that, he turned on his heel and left Kisin standing alone in the hall.

* * *

A tall stone door stood at the end of the hall, thick and bordered by small torches. Maria slowed from a run to a walk as she approached it, hesitating as she touched the carvings. "If this is a trick…"

"It's no trick," Xochi said. "We promise."

Itzamna and the Candle Maker pushed on the slab, and it slowly swung open. The group passed through it, into a dimly lit circular room bare of carvings. In the center of it was a stout pedestal, and atop that was a long glass box.

Maria's hands flew to her mouth as she ran forward. "Manolo!"

He lay still, just as his old body had in its coffin. His arms lay at his sides, and his face was devoid of emotion. Yet his skin had not grayed, and…yes, his chest was moving. Shallow and slight, but moving.

Pushing at the lid, Maria shoved it off and watched it shatter on the floor. She ran her hands across Manolo's chest, reveling in how his skin was still warm. "Where is it, where is it…?"

There, just above his heart. The arrowhead had cut through the fabric of his shirt and was half stuck in his flesh, surrounded by dried blood. Gripping the handle, she held her breath and ripped it free with a single tug.

The seconds ticked by, each more agonizing than the last, as nothing happened. Then the suture in his skin began to close, the flesh melting together until the wound was no more.

Then he gasped and sat up, his eyes flying open to meet hers. "Maria?"

It was almost too much to take in. She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face in it. New tears brimmed in her eyes at the sound of his heartbeat. He pulled her closer, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head. "Are you okay?"

She laughed. "You have no idea."

"Um, yes, hello? Over here? I'm happy for you two, really, but there's a time and place. Which isn't here. Imminent threat of death, you know."

They looked up as Xochi slapped Xibalba upside the head. "Give them a moment!"

"I'm sorry, did you forget what we ran into back there?"

"What are you talking about?" Manolo asked.

An angry roar pierced the air, followed by several more. The group whirled around and backed further into the room as the jaguars came prowling in after them, Tezcatlipoca and his three allies striding in behind.

"I should have known it would be you four," the king said with a sneer.

"It's not them you should be afraid of," La Muerte snarled, storming towards him.

"And it's not you, either," said Mictlan. He was holding the Cazadora de Dios in his hand, and he flung it across the room at her.

Xibalba started to rush forward, but he didn't need to. A burst of dark light suddenly appeared in front of La Muerte, catching the dagger as it morphed into a solid shape. "I'll take _that,_ if you don't mind," said Kisin.

"Kill him!" Tezcatlipoca shouted.

Mictlan rushed forward, then jumped back screaming as Kisin drove the blade into his arm. "I believe you have something of mine." The blade was glowing green and crackling with energy when he pulled it out. "That should be enough."

"Enough for what, Dad?"

"This!" He snapped his fingers, and the whole group vanished, leaving Mictlan writhing on the floor in a pile of feathers. "Find them!" he hissed at the jaguars.

"Where have they gone?" Tohil asked, still trying to process what had just happened.

"Where he thinks he can protect them."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets into PG-13 territory towards the end, so watch out.

Kisin looked around, crinkling his nose as the corners of his mouth sank downwards. "I can't tell if you've redecorated or simply haven't bothered."

"Eh, little bit of both."

Ash covered the ground, falling from the void above like silent snow. Tall, ragged stalagmites jutted from the cavern floor, blocking the winding path in several places. A twisted castle of stone and metal sat in the middle of a wide lake of lava. The moans of the Forgotten drifted through the air.

Maria shivered at the chill and stepped closer to Manolo, who wrapped an arm tightly around her. _Is this what he sees when he tries to sleep?_ "We shouldn't stay here long," she said. "They'll be coming after us soon."

"They won't get far," Kisin said. He arched his back, flexing his shoulder muscles. The rest of the group watched in awe as a pair of black wings sprouted from his skin, growing and spreading until they were huge. "Not with me here."

He waved a hand. The stalagmites blocking the way shifted aside and receded into the ground, clearing the road to the castle. "We shall be protected within its walls. None may cross its threshold unless I allow it."

"They can't?" Xibalba asked, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. "Why didn't I ever figure that out?"

"Probably the same reason you never managed to fix the heating down here, _mi amor."_

* * *

A chorus of roars and hisses filled the air, and the Forgotten gasped and scattered as the jaguars plowed through them towards the castle gate. Pax raised a paw, and they all slid to a stop. The pack leader growled with pleasure as he saw a small face peering out from the highest window. "Bring Xibalba and Kisin out alive. Do what you will with the rest."

His warriors crouched and lunged at the gate with bared teeth, only to fly backwards yowling as they bounced off an invisible wall surrounding the lake. Bursts of yellow light materialized from the air as it repelled the attackers a second time, then a third.

Kisin suppressed a chuckle at the sight, then turned away from the window. The rest of the group was standing at a round stone table whispering anxiously to one another, and they all fell silent as he approached them.

"We have much to discuss, my friends," he said. "Do you remember what happened before they stabbed you, Manolo?"

The young man rubbed his forehead. "Not very well, _señor._ There were these bats, and everyone was saying…they were saying we'd done something terrible."

"They have killed Quetzalcoatl and blamed you for it," said Itzamna.

Manolo looked up, his brows furrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"We know not how they could have accomplished it without being discovered, but - "

"But he's not dead."

Everyone froze, staring at Manolo. "And what makes you think that, exactly?" Xibalba finally blurted out.

"I think I saw him when I was sleeping. He spoke to me…"

He was beginning to shrink under their blank, disbelieving looks, so Maria gently took his hand. "What did he say, Manolo?"

"He said we were both deceived by his brother, that they came for him when he wasn't looking and used a weapon too weak for him to notice. He can stop them, but first we need to find him…?"

La Muerte's eyes widened. "Of course." Standing up, she began to stride around the table. "They couldn't kill him - they wouldn't dare! He's too powerful, he could destroy them all by blinking if he wanted! But they still needed to get him out of the way. So they used something he wouldn't see coming. Something so old that no one would think to use it anymore."

Xibalba shot out of his seat. "There's another arrowhead!"

"Exactly!"

"So now he's out of the picture, and they can tell everyone that the humans killed him. That's the excuse they need to get their plan going! You are _brilliant,_ my dear!"

"Wait. What plan?" Manolo asked.

"They intend to purge man from all the worlds," Kisin said. "The living and the dead alike."

_"What?"_

"We need to work quickly if we are to stop them. They might be starting their work already…what's wrong, boy?"

Manolo had stood up and was slowly backing away from the table, trembling as he'd had when imagining Joaquin's voice in the cavern.

_Not again._ Maria reached a hand out and placed it on his shoulder. "Manolo, it's not really your fault. You know that."

He slowly looked at each of them, then turned and ran from the room.

Maria paused only for a second, and then she was right on his heels. "Manolo!"

La Muerte began to follow them, but Xochi grabbed her arm and held her in place. "This matter must be put to rest by them alone."

* * *

He was faster than Maria thought he would be, and it wasn't long before she lost sight of him. She had no idea how long she spent wandering the castle halls, looking through doors and calling his name. The events of the day had already worn her patience thin, and now it was almost threadbare.

She finally found him in a thrown away alcove of a room, containing only a pile of old blankets and a window overlooking the dusty plains outside. He was pacing the floor like a caged animal, feverishly running his hands through his air and mumbling to himself.

"We need to talk."

He looked away from her, no longer walking but still shaking. "You shouldn't have brought me back."

Maria tensed, close to finally snapping, but managed to bring the brewing storm back under control. "That's nonsense and you know it."

Manolo abruptly turned to face her, his eyes wild and fearful."Don't you understand, Maria? I'm putting you in danger. I'm putting _everything_ in danger! I need…I need to…"

"Need to _what?"_ she snapped. "Go back to your nightmares and leave the rest of us by ourselves?"

He recoiled at her words, and she let out a harsh, joyless laugh without meaning to. "You thought I hadn't figured it out. What, were you going to kill yourself all over again and hope I never noticed?"

"Maria - "

"I'm not done! And you aren't going anywhere until you tell me _exactly_ what is going on here, because they shouldn't have to deal with this anymore!"

"If you knew, why didn't you ever say anything?" he shouted.

"Because you weren't going to listen!"

"I would have if you ever tried to talk to me!"

"Maybe I would have tried if I thought you _trusted_ me!"

They both froze, Maria's words hanging in the air between them. Time seemed to slow down as Manolo's expression changed. His anger melted away as the words sank in, replaced by a flurry of emotions. It haunted her even as it happened: his eyes went wide and glassy, his knees almost buckled and gave way, he wrapped his quivering arms around himself, his head shook as his lips formed a small, silent, desperate "no." She had gone too far and struck something deep within him, and it was too much for her to bear.

Maria turned away and slowly walked to the window, not wanting him to see the tears in her eyes. There was the ugly silence again, coming between them like a curtain. The last time she had let it remain, she had nearly lost him forever. _Say something._

_But will that fix it?_ her mind said.

_That's not what it's about. It's about showing that I want to try._

She took a deep, shuddering breath and chose her words carefully. "I'm…scared, Manolo," she finally said. "For you."

He didn't answer for several seconds, and she wouldn't have blamed him if he didn't want to.

"…This is what I have nightmares about. Losing you."

She turned around, staring in disbelief. _He really thinks he'll lose me over this?_

He had slumped to the floor, weighed down by fear and shame. "It's usually the snake," he continued. "Sometimes it bites you twice and I can't get you back home in time. Sometimes it bites me once and they bury me alive while you watch. Or San Angel is burning and everyone's forgotten. And it's always my fault."

She knelt beside him and took his hands in hers, sighing with relief when he didn't pull away. "They didn't happen, Manolo."

"They nearly did." He suddenly wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder. "Why does everyone around me die, Maria?"

"That's not true."

"It happened to my family. It happened to Joaquin. It happened to you once. I thought…" He trailed off.

"I'm listening," she whispered.

"…I thought I could keep it from happening again if I kept you away. I'm sorry…I-I'm sorry…"

"I'm sorry, too," she said. "I should have said something a long time ago."

He lifted his head to look at her. "So you don't think less of me? Because of the nightmares?"

She placed her hands on his jaw and rested her forehead against his. "Nothing will ever make me think less of you, _mi amor."_

"But I'm still dangerous."

"We're worth the danger. That's why we've made it this far. Because we'll never stop loving each other." She gently pressed her lips to his, and he returned the kiss. "Do you understand now?" she asked when she pulled away.

He smiled at her, and in his gleaming eyes, she saw her beloved beginning to return."I think so."

They might have sat together that way for mere minutes, or maybe it was hours. They didn't know, nor did they care.

"Can we make a promise?" Maria asked."No more secrets from each other, not like these."

"I promise," he said. "With all my heart."

"So do I."

Manolo ran a hand through her hair. "You look tired."

"Not tired enough to go to sleep."

"After what happened with the arrowhead?"

"Yeah…"

"I don't want to, either."

The wails of the Forgotten drifted in from the window. Manolo shuddered at the sound, and yet it was strangely calming. "They haven't planned whatever they're starting."

"At least not yet." She paused, then took a breath. "What if we can't stop him, Manolo?"

"Then we make the most of the time we have left."

They were quiet for a few seconds, staring at each other, before Maria leaned forward and kissed him again. It was deeper and hungrier than the last, and it turned even less innocent as Manolo pulled her into his lap.

"We shouldn't," he said, halfheartedly trying to stop her hands from fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. "They're probably wondering where we are by now…"

"Do you want this?"

"So much…"

"Then say my name."

_"Maria,"_ he breathed. It was reverent and eager, and it sent shivers down her spine.

She leaned backwards, onto the pile of blankets, and he followed her down.

* * *

Xibalba suddenly paused, as though he had forgotten how the story went. He could feel the eyes of the children boring into him, waiting. "And…and that was how they spent the rest of the night."

Sasha tilted her head. "Kissing?"

_"Yes!_ Yes, exactly! Kissing!"

The children stared up at him for a few more seconds, then four of them erupted into gagging and cries of _"Ewww!"_ Goth Boy stayed very quiet and turned bright red, but thankfully said nothing.

"Anyway, the next morning - "

"Hey, wait a minute!" Jane said. "How come you knew about all of that?"

"I-It wasn't me! It's the book! Besides, that's not the point." He waved a hand to settle them down, regaining his own composure in the process. "The point is that Manolo and Maria learned a very important lesson about love that night. They learned that love needed trust and forgiveness, and the courage to apologize. They vowed to trust in one another from that day on, and to not be afraid to rely on each other in their times of need. That vow was never forgotten, and it served them well for the rest of their days. _Especially_ the next day."


	18. Chapter 18

"Do you see them, Ehecatl?"

The eagle nodded as he watched the jaguars pace back and forth in front of the castle gate. "They're still here."

"Shouldn't it not matter?" Xibalba asked, playing with the figurines in his father's model of Aztlan which now sat upon the table. "It's not like they can get in."

"As long as they are still tracking us," Kisin told him, "Tezcatlipoca has not begun his plan. Mictlan will call them back when it's time. They'll want the city to have all the barriers they can muster." Taking the figurines away from his son, he rearranged them around the palace. "And we need to find a way through them."

Xibalba cast a sullen glance at the door leading out of the room. "Someone should go looking for those two, then."

"Give them the time they need, Balby," said his wife. "Remember how we were when we started out?"

"That's why I'm worried."

A hush fell over the group as the door swung open. Maria entered first, gently smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt, and Manolo followed while pulling his hair back into its ponytail. "So, what's the plan?" he asked when he noticed the model. He looked serene and focused, as did his wife.

"Dad's been waiting for you to hear it, if you're able." Xibalba looked them over with slightly raised eyebrows. "I assume you are, boy?"

They both blushed and tried not to make eye contact with him. "Yes, sir," Manolo said.

"Good. Moving on!" Xibalba slammed his elbows onto the table, resting his chin on his hands. "Alright. Probably a bunch of jaguars, definitely a bunch of stone guards and they'll all be set on killing us in creative ways. Am I right so far?"

Kisin nodded. "He'll have barriers like ours around the palace. Perhaps the whole city." He cast a shimmering dome of light over the model to demonstrate. "We cannot transport ourselves within it, and it would take powerful magic to break."

"Maybe not," said La Muerte. "How deep do they go?"

"One hastily made? Not far. It wouldn't reach the caves."

"Then that's where we'll arrive. We can make our way up to the surface through them. If we aim right, we can go past the guards!"

"Through those caves?" the Candle Maker said. "Aw, no, y'all can get lost in there for days if you don't know 'em. Speaking from experience here."

"I can take care of that," said Xochi in a somewhat faraway tone. She had been staring at Maria ever since the young woman had entered the room, eyes searching and head slightly tilted.

_Odd,_ La Muerte thought. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with the lady. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Then it is settled," said Itzamna. "We shall enter the palace through the caves, expose Tezcatlipoca and free Quetzalcoatl."

"Sounds good to me," Maria said. "Let's go."

Xochi drew in a sharp breath. "Are you sure you want to come?"

Maria looked up at her, surprised and annoyed. "Why wouldn't I? I can fight, and we need all the force we have."

The goddess hesitated, her knuckles pressed to her lips. "If you wish to, none of us shall stop you. But…" She knelt down and held out a finger, letting it hover inches from Maria's face. "May I?"

Maria nodded tentatively, and Xochi lightly tapped her forehead. It felt like a brush of air, and a small burst of pale pink light fanned out from where her skin had been touched. She rubbed the spot. "What was that?"

"Protection from all dangers," Xochi answered. "Merely a simple charm, something I've picked up over the years. It will wear off in due time. I thought I would take the opportunity."

"Thank you."

The goddess smiled. "Thank _you."_

Xibalba raised his eyes to the ceiling and muttered something under his breath. "And _how,_ pray tell, do you intend to guide us through those caves?"

"Not I. But I know someone who can. If she's willing."

* * *

"So it was the biggest cottontail we'd ever seen, and there was blood coming from its mouth and all these skeletons lying around the hole. Five of the villagers nearly got their throats ripped out and we finally had to throw a hand grenade at it from thirty feet away. And you know the _really_ weird thing? It was still kind of cute."

Ixa giggled, then abruptly stopped herself. _You mustn't give in to it, fool. It will only bring harm on you both._

Joaquin had woken that morning wanting to stand and move, but the water spirit had inspected his wounds and declared them not yet healed despite the wide eyes and pouting lip he offered to her. He began telling her tales of his medals and scars to pass the time and distract himself. The hours passed by without a trace as he became more detailed and animated with each question and involuntary smile of hers. Her amusement seemed to feed him, give him life.

_If Xochi spoke the truth when she said he was confounded, then it already seems to confound him less._

He grinned at her. "You want to hear another one?"

"Let's check on you first." Ixa began to lift the moss off his chest piece by piece, revealing the pale, smooth new skin underneath. She let her fingers slide slowly across the surface, wishing the sensation could last.

"It looks pretty good," he said, noticing her hand.

Ixa pulled away, thankful that she could not blush. "Yes. It has healed well."

They both looked up at a flash of pink light on the other side of the cavern. "I need a word with you, child."

Eager to get away, Ixa floated across the water to Xochi. Joaquin sat up and leaned forward, trying to hear their hushed words. "Of course I know these caves," the water spirit was saying. "But Father and my sisters would - "

"Please, child! This is a grave matter, and there is no one else we can trust!"

"Why?" Joaquin asked. "What's going on?"

"We are storming Quetzalcoatl's palace to free him."

"Free him from what?"

"It would take too long to explain."

"Then tell me on the way."

"What?" Ixa said, fear creeping into her voice.

"I want to come with you guys."

She had flown back to his side before she realized what she was doing. "You can't!"

He was already pulling on his shirt. "I'm a soldier, Ixa. They can use my help. And they're my friends. I'm finished healing, aren't I?"

"Only just…" She was suddenly assaulted by visions of seeing him stabbed, torn apart, drowned by her sisters. They brought her a fright that was cold and sharp, stronger than any she had felt while curled up in hiding from her family. _I cannot let you die. I_ _ **must**_ _not._

"If you're worried," he continued, "you can come with us."

"That's why I'm trying to ask of her," said Xochi. "She will not."

"I want to! But Father…Father would kill me himself if he found out."

Joaquin paused, looking at her. Reaching out, he carefully took one of her hands. It was cool to the touch, and he could feel the water flowing beneath his fingers. It was strange beyond belief and yet the most natural feeling in the world to him. She stiffened and trembled, staring at their joined hands in confusion.

"Your dad," he began, not sure how to proceed. "He casts a pretty big shadow, doesn't he?"

She bit her lip and nodded.

"But not so big that you can't get out from under it. Maybe it's time to cast your own. Forget about what everyone else wants. What do _you_ want, Ixa?"

She hesitated for a few seconds, then took his other hand in hers and met his gaze. "I want to help you and the others, and…I want to keep you safe."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

Ixa smiled at him and, for the first time, felt no fear in it. _Maybe there is nothing to fear._ "Prepare for battle, then. I shall fetch you when it comes."

She leaned forward, and for a second, her cold lips brushed his cheek. Then she sank away, leaving him wide-eyed and catching his breath.


	19. Chapter 19

"My brethren," Tezcatlipoca said while trying to keep his face grave. "An inevitable day has come."

The gods of Aztlan had filed quietly down the hidden staircase and were gathered around Quetzalcoatl’s pit, now sealed shut with a stone lid. Their faces were solemn, angry and writhing with anticipation, for they all knew what they were about to witness.

Mictlan scanned the crowd, searching for a glimpse of Pax. He stiffened as he saw the jaguar slipping towards him, growling with anger and keeping his eyes downcast. “Have you disposed of them?” he whispered.

"No, my lord," Pax muttered. "Kisin hid them behind a barrier."

"Then they are still a threat. Take your men and patrol the halls. If you see _any_ of them, kill them at once.”

"Yes, my lord." Unsheathing his claws, he turned and darted back up the stairs.

"Will you not join us, Mictlan?" Tohil cheerfully boomed, gesturing for the other god to follow him.

"Nothing would please me more."

They both stepped away from the crowd onto the stone lid and walked to its center, where Tezcatlipoca and Tlaloc stood over a large map that was spread out across the ground. On it, the continents of the Land of the Living had been carefully drawn. Two stone bowls sat next to it, one filled with water and the other with smoldering embers.

Tlaloc sneered as he eyed the map. “So how shall this be done?” he asked, picking up the bowl of water. “One overgrown rock at a time? Starting with theirs?”

"There is no time for such ceremony," Tezcatlipoca said. "It must be done all at once." He picked up the bowl of embers and handed it to Tohil. "You shall have the honor of beginning, good Tohil. "Make them burn for us."

"And what of any survivors?"

Tlaloc smirked. “They shall face my floods.”

"The race of men has crossed a threshold it cannot return from," Tezcatlipoca continued, raising his voice to address the crowd. "Today, we ensure that it shall cross no more."

Tohil waved a hand over the embers in the bowl, murmuring under his breath. They grew brighter and warmer, then rose up into a swirling blaze. Holding the bowl over the map, he began to slowly tip it over and release the devouring flames.

Tlaloc watched it all intently, his eyes gleaming and his lips curled up in something that was probably meant to be a smile. He watched it so intently, in fact, that he didn’t notice the water in his own bowl beginning to quiver.

Like a bullet erupting from a gun barrel, the water shot out of the bowl and into Tohil’s. It doused the flames with a single splash, then evaporated a second later. Tohil jumped back as he dropped the empty bowl, his mouth agape. “What was _that?”_

Tlaloc’s expression darkened just as quickly as it had turned to shock. “Only a daughter of mine knows such tricks…”

"I suppose you need not guess which one it is."

Tlaloc turned around with murder in his eyes, and so did the rest of the room. “What is the meaning of this, middle daughter?”

"My name," she said as she rose up from the moat around the pit, "is Ixa. And I will not let you kill those people."

"Then you shall perish with them!"

"No mortal shall perish today."

"Oh?" said Tezcatlipoca. "Do you think you can defend them by yourself, girl?"

"I am not by myself."

The door flew open as Pax  and several other jaguars came sailing into the room, yowling. They landed on the floor with a thud and skittered to the nearest corner as Xibalba came striding through the doorway with the rest of the group behind him. _"Ohh,_ that felt good.”

Nearly everyone in the room gasped. “What brings your treasonous selves here?” Tezcatlipoca said, the annoyance masked by his face dripping out through his voice.

"I figured we would ask you the same thing," Xibalba answered.

"The only treason here is how you dare to deny the being you killed his vengeance!" Tohil shouted.

"I agree. It wouldn’t be very nice if he was actually dead." Xibalba held up a hand. Pinched between his fingers was the arrowhead pulled from Manolo. "Funny story about that."

"Such a paltry weapon could not kill so great a god as Quetzalcoatl," Mictlan said.

"But it can _look_ like it does, can’t it?”

Tezcatlipoca’s facade was beginning to crumble. “How dare you accuse me of casting such a curse on my brother!” he hissed. “You have no proof - “

"Where is the second arrowhead, my king?"

Every pair of eyes in the room turned to Tohil, who had suddenly gone quiet. “Well?” he said to Tezcatlipoca. “What of it?”

"You aren’t falling for it, are you?" Tlaloc said with a forced laugh.

"You and Mictlan were there when he asked me to make the arrowheads," Tohil continued. "And none of you would say what they were for when I asked. One was for the human. Where is the other?"

The trio didn’t answer. The other gods began to back away from each other, moving to different sides of the room. _They are innocent,_ whispered some. _No, Xibalba speaks the truth,_ whispered others.

Tohil’s eyes darted to the stone lid. “…It’s down there, isn’t it?”

The three traitors drew themselves back up and began to move towards the door. “My apologies,” Mictlan said, “that we must stop the ceremony…”

_"Isn’t it?"_

"…but you’ll still get your fair share of death."

Tezcatlipoca snapped his fingers, and the doors snapped shut. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the rebels flying backwards and slamming into the wall. “Who else dares defy me?”

"Traitor!" half the room shouted, and the other half promptly pounced on them.

Xibalba sat back up, rubbing his head. “So that’s how it’s going to be. How wonderful.”

~

Tezcatlipoca wove his way through the room as it erupted into shouts and the clattering of weapons. He was nearly at the door when a lithe , wooden limb wrapped around his waist and lifted him off the floor. “I command you to release me!” he shouted. “I am still your king!”

Itzamna glared at him. “I take orders from my king. You are a tyrant.”

"Then you leave me no choice."

Tezcatlipoca opened his mouth, and the dark green head of a snake poked up from his throat. It slithered out of his mouth and down Itzamna’s arm, followed by several more. They wrapped around the limb, squeezing and twisting until it began to snap. Itzamna groaned in pain, and his grip began to loosen. Tezcatlipoca wriggled from his grasp, dropped to the floor and vanished into the fray.

The shriek of an eagle pierced the air. Spying his friend, Ehecatl shot downwards. Grasping the snakes in his claws, he jerked them free in one tug. Itzamna gasped and then sighed, snapping his arm back into position.

"Are you alright?" Ehecatl asked.

"He escaped."

"Go after him, then!"

"And what of the snakes?"

Opening his beak, Ehecatl stuffed them down his own throat. “You needn’t worry.”

~

Pax grinned. “A pair of you. Perhaps we’ll finally have that feast after all.”

His warriors’ mouths watered as they circled Manolo and Maria, who stood back to back wielding swords. “Don’t come any closer,” the young man said.

Pax stalked forward. “Your weapons cannot kill me.”

"Yeah, probably not," Maria said. "But how do you feel about fire?"

"What are you…" He shrieked as a searing pain suddenly shot through his tail. La Muerte stood behind him with a candle in hand, smirking. The rest of the jaguars scattered as he began to stagger around, heading right for Manolo’s blade.

Manolo lunged for him and hacked a new gash into his face before Maria pulled him away. _"That’s_ for Joaquin.”

~

"You’re surprisingly strong for a fat guy," Xibalba said. "Has he always been like this, Dad?"

_"Concentrate…!"_

With a roar, Tlaloc burst out of their grasp and flung them across the room. His eyes darted around the room seeking blood to spill, and he caught sight of Maria. He muttered a quick spell, and a hatchet materialized in his hand. “A mortal _shall_ die today if I have anything to say about it!” Rushing at the young woman, he pinned her down by the neck and slammed the blade against her torso.

With a flash of pink light, it bounced off her and didn’t leave a single mark. The other end of the blade shot back up and hit her assailant in the face, sending him staggering backwards and into the arms of Xibalba and Kisin.

A pair of familiar hands pulled Maria onto her feet and into a tight embrace. “What happened? Are you alright?” Manolo asked, feeling her stomach with a trembling hand.

"Compared to the alternative, yes."

~

The lid over the pit was beginning to crack and sag. _Just a little more force and we can get through,_ Xibalba thought as he approached it.

"Balby!"

He whirled around. Mictlan had an arm around La Muerte’s waist and lifted her off the ground. She was struggling, but froze as he pressed the Cazadora de Dios to her neck. “Get away from the pit.”

La Muerte shook her head, but Xibalba couldn’t bring himself to take heed. “J-Just think about this for a second…”

"I’ve had thousands of years to think about it, _brother._ Thousands of years to realize I never should have trusted you, that she’d already poisoned your mind. To imagine how this moment would go when I _finally_ got to - “

_"Joaquin!"_

On the other side of the room, Manolo and Maria froze. They slowly turned with wide eyes, wanting desperately to believe their ears. _It can’t be. Can it?_

A small, bulky figure shot up from the pandemonium and flew at Mictlan like a rocket, punching him in the face. He staggered and loosened his grip on La Muerte, who wrested the dagger from his hands and turned it on him. “What a coincidence,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for this moment, too.”

Joaquin skidded across the floor and stopped a few feet away from his friends. “Hey, guys,” he said, grinning at them. “Sorry it took me so long. Did you save a little fun for me?”

They nearly knocked him over as they barreled into him, wrapping their arms around his torso and trying not to cry into him. “You _idiot!”_ Maria hissed, punching him. “When we get out of here, I _swear_ I’ll…”

"Missed you too."

"B-But they sealed the maze off!" Manolo blurted out. "A-And the jaguars…h-how did you…?"

"Let’s just say Xibalba’s not completely right about water spirits. Look, I’ll explain later. Don’t we have a god to wake up or something?"

Kisin had Mictlan pinned to the floor with his arms behind his back. “Go, all of you!” he shouted at Xibalba and the three mortals. “We’ll keep him under control.”

People were shouting and jumping off the lid as it began to crumble apart outright. “Guess that’s our cue,” Joaquin said. He took his friends’ hands. “No retreat?”

They smiled back at him, still in disbelief. “No surrender.”

Rushing forward, they reached the edge of the pit and jumped into the darkness.


	20. Chapter 20

The regret was strong and immediate. Manolo, Maria and Joaquin screamed as they plummeted downwards, the light and sounds from above quickly fading away. They flailed about while falling, their hands searching for something to grab on to. The walls were practically invisible in the blackness, as well as the floor, if there was one. At the speed they were going, they would find out soon enough.

"Hang on!" Xibalba called out from somewhere above them. They heard him swoop down in a rush of air, then his arms wrapped around them and pulled them back together. He twisted his body, sending them careening to the left and landing roughly on a large ledge that jutted out from the wall.

The god groaned as he sat up, letting the humans roll off him. "I gathered you three weren't exactly ones for self-preservation, but _really..."_

Manolo looked up, squinting at the faint spot of light. "How far down are we?"

Xibalba held out his hand, and an orb of bright green fire flickered to life in his palm. The humans blinked and winced in the sudden light. He walked to the end of the ledge, holding up the fire and moving it around to see the cavern. "Just far enough."

The pit, although not narrow to begin with, had widened out into a massive cave. Stalactites hung from the arched ceiling, and the light flickered off of sharp stalagmites below them. More ledges dotted the walls at various levels, connected by thin stone walkways. More walkways connected a series of small round platforms that rose up from the ground. They seemed to form a sort of circle, and curled within it, barely breathing, was the dark, gargantuan shape of Quetzalcoatl.

They still couldn't help gaping. The plumed serpent towered over them, the top of his body shrouded in shadow and its length too great to even see where it curled. "Great," said Maria. _"Just_ great. How are we going to find that arrowhead?"

"Go to each platform and look," Xibalba answered. "It shouldn't matter where they stabbed him." He divided the flame into two smaller spheres and gave one to Joaquin. It gave off cool pulses of air and floated just above the young man's palm.

"Use this to see what you're doing," Xibalba told him. "Close your hand to snuff it out if you need to."

"Got it." Joaquin jumped off the ledge and onto a walkway below them that led to the first platform.

Manolo went next, catching Maria as she followed. "Are you coming?"

"Just give me a minute - "

_"Xibalba! Answer to me!"_

A long, dark shape flew down from above and slammed into Xibalba, knocking him off the ledge. He caught himself by a hand and found himself looking up into Mictlan's hollow, snarling face. The glow of the fire illuminated the glossy feathers of his large black wings. "And _what,"_ he hissed, "do you think you're up this time?"

Xibalba let go of the ledge and tumbled down towards the floor, snuffing out his flame as he fell. His brother jumped after him, and he rolled out of the way to keep from being pinned down _._ When he got to his feet, his teeth were sharp and his pupils were rotating forward. _"What did you do to Dad?"_ he snarled.

Light glinted off the Cazadora de Dios as Mictlan twirled it in his hand. "What I should have done millennia ago." He beat his wings and propelled himself off the ground as Xibalba threw himself at the spot where he had been a second before.

Manolo ran his hands beneath Quetzalcoatl's feathers, feeling the tough skin underneath. "It's not here!"

Looking up, Mictlan spied the humans. A sphere of bright white fire whirled to life in his palm as he drew his arm back to throw it.

"Look out!" Jumping, Xibalba grabbed Mictlan's leg and jerked him off balance. The fireball went sailing over the humans' heads, knocking down a stalactite. Joaquin started and accidentally clapped his hands shut. The green light vanished, plunging them all into the pitch darkness.

"Try to keep going!" Xibalba shouted. "I'll hold him off!" He started to look around, then gasped and choked as Mictlan grabbed his neck with both hands and lifted him off his feet.

"You were always the weaker one," the elder god said, letting him go.

Xibalba fell several feet and crashed back to earth, groaning in pain. "Yeah, well, you were always the stupid one."

_"Am I?"_ he shouted. "With all that I have done? All that I _will_ do? I have fought for my rightful place on Father's throne and won. And when I rise from this cavern, all of Aztlan shall have no choice but to bow before me - "

Xibalba cut him off with a single punch, green sparks erupting from the contact. "That's enough out of you."

Maria paused as she reached beneath a feather and felt a small stone knob peeking out from the serpent's skin. "I think I found it!"

"Hurry, pull it out!" the boys said, ducking as another fireball shot their way.

"It's stuck...!"

Mictlan staggered to his feet, grinning. "You know, brother, it doesn't have to be this way."

"It _won't_ be."

"I wasn't done!" Mictlan snapped, effortlessly dodging Xibalba's next punch. "Stop fighting your common sense. Kill the humans and join me. Aztlan shall have two kings once more, the strongest ones of all."

"I hope you're not too attached to that idea."

Mictlan growled, then tossed another fireball at him. "Then you shall perish with your humans!"

"Not before I fix this."

"Then why do you allow those pathetic creatures to live?"

"Because you're _wrong_ about them!"

Maria stumbled backwards, the blood-tipped arrowhead in her hand. "I got it!"

The whole cavern violently lurched and shuddered as Quetzalcoatl breathed. The three humans stumbled and were thrown off their feet, as were Xibalba and Mictlan. The Cazadora de Dios flew from Mictlan's hand and went sliding across the ground.

Xibalba was the first to get back on his feet. Dodging falling stalactites, he ran to the dagger and scooped it up. _I need to get those powers back._

_"Mine!"_ Mictlan shrieked, throwing himself at Xibalba and pinning him to the cavern wall. The dagger slipped from the younger god's hands and his brother picked it back up.

"I don't know what you'll use it for," Xibalba said. "You're too late."

Quetzalcoatl's eyes were beginning to open, and his body was unfurling from its tight curl. Mictlan's eyes gleamed with hatred at the sight, then turned to the three humans. They were trying to pick themselves back up, too flustered to notice him. The skeleton grinned. "If I am to fall," he said, raising the dagger, "they shall fall with me."

The next few seconds flew by for Xibalba. His vision turned red as he flipped himself on top of Mictlan with a burst of speed and ripped the dagger out of his hands. Gripping its handle, he stared into the empty, unapologetic sockets. "Say hi to Dad for me."

With a shout, he drove the blade into Mictlan's neck and twisted it.

The carvings on the obsidian glowed a deep green. They both screamed in pain as Mictlan writhed, his head disintegrating into ash and bone dust. The rest of his body followed, and when Xibalba's rage subsided, he found only a pile of particles beneath him.

He wasn't quite sure what it was at first, a part of him not wanting to believe it. He dropped the knife, ran his hands through the dust, felt the weight of his wings back on his shoulders. When it finally sank in, his eyes grew wide as his hands flew to his mouth. _What have I done?_

A deep voice rumbled through the cavern, penetrating his mind. **"It is time we left this place."**

* * *

On the surface, every jaw in the room dropped as they felt the floor shake. They inched towards the edge of the pit, looking down into its depths, then they fled for the corners of the room as they saw a dark shape rising up from it.

Quetzalcoatl's head filled the room, his eyes scanning the face of everyone in it. On top of him stood Xibalba and the humans, looking around nervously as they huddled together.

Xibalba let out a relieved breath as he caught sight of La Muerte. She was smiling at him, and leaning on her shoulder was...

"Dad?"

Kisin's side was wrapped in bandages, and when he walked without his daughter-in-law, it was with a limp. He looked up at Xibalba, his face turning solemn as he saw the wings. He nodded, a simple dip of the head and back. "My lord."

Quetzalcoatl's eyes narrowed as they found Tezcatlipoca, who looked nearly ready to sink into the ground. **"Hello, brother. We have much to discuss."**


	21. Chapter 21

A smile spread across Xibalba's face. "The look Tezzy had on him was the first thing I'd been truly happy to see all week."

"So then what happened?" Sanjay asked. "Did everyone get sent home?"

"After a display like that? Of course not. We barely had time to put ourselves back together as it was. Quetzalcoatl asked that all his visitors remain in Aztlan one night more. In the morning, he said, the whole story would be brought out and a proper judgement reached. Tezcatlipoca and Tlaloc were locked away. The rest of us went back to our bedchambers, but most of us didn't sleep a minute. We were exhausted, but we were even more amazed. And just a little bit nervous."

* * *

As the sun rose over the lake, the people of Aztlan quietly convened around Quetzalcoatl's pit. The plumed serpent was waiting for them, silencing the crowd with a single huff of breath. **"We shall begin at the root of this affair,"** he said. **"How did Mictlan escape from the deepest cavern of your realm, Lord Xibalba?"**

"Great question. Who wants to answer it?"

Tezcatlipoca stood straight as a board and kept his eyes cast to the ground as he spoke. Tlaloc had found him first, wandering through his domain with the jaguars who had helped free him in tow. He was told of what had transpired in the years since his imprisonment, and upon hearing the tale of Manolo, his face had gone dark before lighting up with inspiration. Going to the king together, they offered him a deal: _help us return mankind to its proper, subservient state, and we shall help you become the sole ruler of Aztlan._ And so Tezcatlipoca had called the meeting.

"Just so you know, he was literally gonna stab you in the back," Xibalba added. "He never liked sharing."

**"Silence. Tell me of what has transpired since I last saw these mortals."**

Manolo, Maria and Joaquin quietly spoke of the four trials and how each one had nearly been lost. How the jaguars had come for them, how Joaquin had been left for dead and of his time in the caves with Ixa. How they had lost Manolo and found him once more, discovered Tezcatlipoca's deception and confronted him at the ceremony.

"And…well, that's that," Manolo said, aching to slip back into the crowd. All three of them had found their throats too tight to continue at various point, leaving the other two to pick up where they left off.

Quetzalcoatl nodded. **"I see. You need not say any more. Bring forth my brother and Tlaloc."**

Tohil laughed. "Now you shall receive the punishment you deserve for daring to commit such atrocities!"

La Muerte gave him a look. "You were helping them."

"…I was not properly informed."

Quetzalcoatl's eyes focused on the two gods standing before him. **"Tezcatlipoca and Tlaloc. This is my judgement for you…"**

The rest of the room leaned forward.

**"…life."**

_"What?"_ the humans and their allies all shouted. "After everything they did?"

**"But not a life to look fondly upon. Both of you shall be forever confined to the lands you rule over, never to be free from them even for a moment. Should you dare to leave their boundaries, or to use your powers to torment the race of men, you shall be put to death."** He huffed, warm air blowing from his nostrils. **"I decree this judgement to be fair and good."**

Xibalba rolled his eyes. "Not good enough," he grumbled.

**"There is a balance in this universe which must be maintained, Lord Xibalba. Light cannot be without darkness. My brother is not wicked, for there is no good or wicked. He and Tlaloc merely acted in their nature. We are but the pieces of a whole. You and Mictlan were the same."**

The room went quiet as all eyes fell on Xibalba, who stared back at the plumed serpent. "I don't think so."

**"Then explain to us why he is dead."**

For several long seconds, the younger god was silent. "I thought he'd killed our father," he said at last. "And he was going to kill those three with that knife," he added, gesturing to the humans.

**"You said no had no love for humankind, Lord Xibalba."**

"I did."

**"You could have let the three humans die and still stopped your brother."**

"No, I couldn't have," he said quickly. _"Especially_ not those three."

**"Why not?"**

Xibalba sighed, then folded his arms behind his back and began to pace around in front of the crowd. "It's just as frustrating as it sounds, believe me. All the humans to get under my skin, and it had to be them. I can't even describe what it's really like just _looking_ at them!" Whirling around, he stared right at Manolo. "You know what I see every time I look at you, boy? I see the one thing I hate more than anything else."

**"And what is that?"**

He didn't hesitate. "Me."

The smallest pin in the world could have dropped at that moment, and it would have sounded like a thunderclap.

"I see a lot more than I'd like," Xibalba continued, growing quieter and not taking his eyes off the stunned young man. "I see what I used to be. Sometimes I see what I still am. Then I see what I should be, and I can't help but wonder if I still can. All in one mortal." He turned to look at the rest of the gods. "The reason this happened is because we thought mortals were supposed to be lesser than us. That they couldn't think or feel the way we do. But you know what I've realized? We're more like them than we care to admit. We can't go on about how they're not all perfect when we aren't, either. Not when they have so much more potential than we realize. Just look at what three of them can do."

La Muerte was beaming, and a smile played across Kisin's lips as he shook his head in disbelief.

Xibalba staggered, seemingly drained of fire and out of breath, then turned back to Quetzalcoatl. "And for the record," he added, "not a word of that leaves this room."

The air filled with a deep rumbling that might have been the plumed serpent chuckling. **"You have spoken well, Lord Xibalba. However, I believe your matter is not truly mine to judge. What say you, Kisin? Do his words suffice?"**

Kisin slowly stepped forward, his eyes still on his son and his son's eyes locked on him. He stroked his beard, mulling the torrent of words inside him. "You did what had to be done," he finally said. "I will not forget it. But I will forgive."

"T-Thanks, Dad…"

Screams filled the air as Pax broke from the crowd and lunged towards the two gods. "You are fools and traitors!" he shouted. "Mictlan is the rightful ruler of your land, and we shall continue his work until - "

"You turn to dust?" Xibalba said. "Fine with me." He snapped his fingers, and glowing green chains materialized to snap around the jaguar's neck and legs, pulling him to the floor. "You and your men escaped from where you were rightfully imprisoned and allied yourself with one who would kill me. As ruler of the Land of the Forgotten, I condemn you to return to your prison and remain there for all eternity. _Bye."_ When he snapped his fingers a second time, the jaguar vanished.

**"Does anyone else object to these decisions?"** Quetzalcoatl asked.

Shrugging off the guards holding him, Tlaloc oozed forward. "I request justice of a different sort, my king!"

**"What do you mean?"**

"If Kisin has the right to judge his son, then I have the right to judge my daughter."

Joaquin's face went pale. "Ixa? W-What are you gonna do to her?"

**"Your logic is sound, Lord Tlaloc. You may bring your daughter forward."**

"He can't!" Joaquin said. "She didn't do anything wrong!"

"I'll decide that," the water god sneered.

Two water spirits rose from the moat and approached their father. Each one had Ixa by an arm and dragged her behind them as she struggled. They threw her forward and sank away, leaving nothing between her and Tlaloc.

"I must say, middle daughter," the god began, "I could not have predicted such behavior from you. Despite the way you have always been. I raised you better than this."

Ixa trembled but kept her head up. "You did not raise me. Not as a father should raise a daughter."

"Because you have always been a cowardly, human-loving wretch!" he snapped, then quickly regained his composure. "But, you are not yet beyond saving. If you repent for your crimes, renounce your friendship with those creatures and bow to me, I shall forgive you." He stared down at her as he had when Xibalba had questioned her, daring her to refuse.

Her eyes dropped away from his, and for a moment, she began to bend. Then she straightened up once more, defiance and resignation in her eyes. "I shall not repent. I have nothing to repent for."

Tlaloc's eyes narrowed. "I thought you would say that."

Ixa tried to back away and was caught by two of her sisters, who hissed in her ears. A third rose up from the water, carrying a small bundle in her arms: a lump of brown clay wrapped in a light blue cloth, which she tossed to the floor.

"What's that?" Ixa asked.

Tlaloc smirked. "What you want."

He slowly closed his hand into a fist. Ixa abruptly doubled over, letting out a strangled cry of pain. Her whole body was beginning to ripple and shudder, and with a scream and a splash, she exploded into thousands of water droplets.

_"No!"_ Joaquin shouted. His knees buckled, and his friends had to keep him from falling to the ground altogether.

The droplets remained in mid-air, floating. With a wave of his hand, Tlaloc moved them until they were hovering over the lump of clay. They sank down and merged with it, sinking beneath its surface until there wasn't one left.

La Muerte gripped Xibalba's arm, trying not to fly into a rage. "She did not deserve such a death…!"

"She is not dead," Tlaloc said calmly. "This fate shall be worse than death."

On the floor, the lump of clay was beginning to twitch and writhe. The crowd backed away as it grew and stretched until it was several feet long and wide. It molded itself, forming a head, a torso, slender arms and legs. The cloth stretched with it, turning into a loose dress. Reddish-brown hair sprouted from the top of the figure's head and grew down to its shoulders. A face appeared: large eyes, a small, pointed nose, ears and red lips.

With a shudder, clay turned to skin. Pale blue eyes snapped open, and new lungs gasped for breath.

"She chose her side," Tlaloc said as the whole room gaped at him. "I simply made it official."

Ixa slowly sat up, her face twisted in fear and confusion as she looked at her hands. When she caught sight of her legs, she froze altogether. "…What's going on…?"

"I hereby trap you in this mortal shell and banish you from my realm forever," Tlaloc said. "You are your sisters' prey now, and they shall hunt you for the rest of your days."

Xochi hurried forward, pulling Ixa to her feet and away from the moat as the water spirits leapt at her, clawing the air and hissing. "Are you alright, child?"

Ixa collapsed the moment Xochi let go of her, unable to stand. Her breaths were coming in short, frantic heaves and tears were forming in her eyes.

Joaquin had stopped moving as soon as the clay had started to change. Now he walked forward in a trance, blinking over and over. "Ixa…?"

She looked up at him, her eyes darting between his form and her new one. Finally she nodded. "Help…"

Kneeling down, he gently put his hands around her waist and lifted her to her feet. She was light and wobbly, and she grabbed his shirt for support. She nearly collapsed against him, blinking back more tears.

_This is because she helped us. Because she helped me_. "I'm sorry," he murmured, not feeling worthy to look her in the eyes.

Her grip only tightened as she weakly shook her head. "No. You mustn't be."

"Take her back with you if you wish," Tlaloc said with a sneer. "But you shall make enemies of my daughters and I forevermore."

"Uh-huh," Joaquin said dazedly, focused on Ixa. "Good plan."

**"You shall not bring harm on them, Tlaloc,"** said Quetzalcoatl. **"As long as I reign, no god may harm a human. From this day forth, we shall strive only for peace."** He looked at the four mortals. **"You have shown great courage in these dark days. As an act of thanks and goodwill, I shall give you the reward you seek."**

A column of light, much like the one which had brought them to Aztlan, suddenly enveloped them where they stood. They flinched and blinked as it grew brighter, blocking their vision. The room and its inhabitants began to melt away. **  
**

**"Farewell, young ones."**

_"Adios!"_ they heard Xochi add. "Good luck to all five of you!"

Manolo started. "Wait, what do you - "

But they were already gone.

* * *

People chattered. A bell rang. Water sloshed against the legs of the bridge.

Manolo blinked rapidly and turned around, trying to get a sense of his bearings once more. Maria and Joaquin stood on either side of him, just as dazed as he was. Ixa sat on the wooden planks of the bridge, staring at her legs with a mixture of apprehension and awe as she tried dangling them. They were halfway across, and behind them, the buildings of San Angel were glittering in the sunrise.

"How long do you think we've been gone?" Maria asked.

"Probably a few days," said Joaquin. "We better go make sure your dad hasn't had a panic attack."

"Five."

They all looked at Manolo. "What?"

"Xochi. She said good luck to all five of us." He stared at Maria. "What was that supposed to mean?"

Joaquin shrugged. "Maybe she just has a few screws loose. Wouldn't surprise me, to be honest."

But Manolo and Maria were already holding a silent conversation, and their eyes gradually bulged to the verge of escaping from their sockets as the realization of something crept over them.

"Ixa," Maria said, "did Xochi ever tell you about any protection spells she knows?"

"Only one," she answered obliviously. "To protect a woman from all danger and wickedness which might cross her path. She doesn't use it often. It can only be cast on a woman who is with child. Why do you ask?"

Joaquin was backing away inch by inch. "I'd give 'em some space if I were you."

Maria wobbled as though struck. Her hands subconsciously drifted to her abdomen, as though trying to feel the tiny life within. A million words were rattling around in her brain, but one sentence stuck out above the others: _We're not ready for this. Are we…?_

She looked at her husband, who was standing stock still with a distant look in his eyes and possibly about to faint. "Manolo…?"

He blinked a few times, noticing her once more. Then a grin the likes of which she hadn't since before the Day of the Dead burst out across his face. With an ecstatic shout that could probably be heard in the churchyard, he hoisted her into his arms and twirled her around until everyone and everything else seemed to vanish. His laughter was crisp and melodic, broken by the tears of joy he had to choke back, and her fears melted away as she laughed with him. When he finally set her down, it was to kiss away the tears now streaming down her own cheeks.

"Is that a good thing?" Ixa said, watching them tear off down the bridge into town.

"Not quite," Joaquin answered as he gently lifted her into his arms. "It's _perfect."_


	22. Chapter 22

”And that day was pretty much perfect,” Xibalba said as the children stared up at him, smiling. “Not all of the days to come would be. Some would be dark and seem hopeless, and sometimes Manolo or Maria would wake up haunted by remembrances of the past. But they always woke up to find the other beside them, and so found comfort. For there was a simple truth they both knew, one they had proven and would hold on to: nothing in any realm would _ever_ keep them apart.”

Somewhere back in the museum, a clock struck twelve. “Well, looks like I’m off-duty,” said Xibalba as he closed the Book of Life. “And you’d best be on your way.”

The children groaned sadly as he ushered them out of the room. “But I don’t want it to be over!” Goth Boy said. “I want to hear more about the dark and hopeless stuff!”

"Next time. Now run along and get back to where you came from in one piece."

They hurried away down the corridor and were almost out of sight when Sasha paused and turned around. Running back to Xibalba, she threw her arms around him and hugged the hem of his robe. “Bye, Balby! Thanks for the story!”

Xibalba looked down at her with surprise, but didn’t try to shake her off. “You’re welcome.”

She pulled away, and he watched her as she skippedoff giggling to catch up with her friends.

"You have more of a way with children than you think, _mi amor.”_

He turned around with a raised eyebrow as two figures came slipping from the shadows, one made of sugar and one of obsidian. “When did I ever say that? Aren’t I good at terrifying them?”

"Not really," said La Muerte. "But perhaps you’d like to fill in for me again sometime."

"Oh…I’ll think about it."

Kisin glanced around the room. “So this is what you do in your spare time?”

"Yep. It’s something."

"I like it."

Xibalba’s face lit up. “And I haven’t even shown you the taser yet!”

"Balby!"

"Not on him, of course…"

* * *

 

A light appeared at the end of the hall and grew until the children were standing in the bright afternoon sun, just outside the museum. The cars were still driving in and out, and the four bikes sat where their owners had left them. Jumping on and buckling their helmets, they pedaled out of the parking lot and swerved down the sidewalk. Buildings and crosswalks flew by once more as happy, excited chatter filled the air.

"Man, that kid’s gonna be so lucky!"

"They’re all so cute together!"

"My favorite part was the hall with the knives!"

"I liked it when they punched Mictlan! Not any special time, just whenever."

The school came back into view all too soon. Parking their bikes, they stole back to the open. “I think we’re good!” Goth Boy said as they climbed into the classroom. “Just stay quiet.”

His friends were all staring in horror at something behind him. “Uh…”

"What?" he said, turning around. "…Oh…"

The teacher was sitting at her desk, eyes narrowed into slits as she glowered at them. “Sit back down! You’re here until six, and none of us are leaving this room til then!” She slumped back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I hope you brats are happy. I’m missing Downton Abbey because of this…”

The children looked at the clock, which suddenly seemed to freeze. They looked at one another, and then they grinned. “Worth it.”


End file.
